The Prince of Avalon
by Adriana1
Summary: Sequel to SHATTERED, but stands alone. Saga of Draco Malfoy after Voldemort is defeated. He contends with Harry Potter, fame, power, celebrity, groupies, hippogriffs, his Uncle Severus, and the royal crown. Oh, and someone wants to kill him. DM-GW
1. Prologue: Shattered

Author's Note: This is the sequel to my story, "Shattered", which mainly concentrates on the post-Hogwarts relationship between Severus Snape and Hermione Granger. Don't let that squick you . . . Draco Malfoy played a significant role in that story and now he has one of his own. You don't have to read "Shattered" to understand what's happening in "The Prince of Avalon", but you may want to read it at some point. If you love Draco, I think you'll love "Shattered".

At least, I certainly hope so . . . "Shattered" is here on this site. Just click on my author name to find it in my profile.

And just to give a little background: In Shattered, Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater and spy for the Order of the Phoenix . . . a protégé of Severus Snape. Malfoy worked with Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Order, to defeat Voldemort. In part because of the role he played, the MoM worked with the Ancient Houses to name Malfoy as the future monarch of wizarding Britain.

It will all become more clear as you read this story.

I also want to say that while this story will be a romance, it will also have drama, mystery, humor and not to mention, a bit of parody of the British Royal Family. There will be references to "The Order of the Phoenix", so if you haven't read it yet, you may want to skip this until such time you complete the book.

This fic is rated R for language and sexual situations . . . Hey! This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about! What did you expect?

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Pride and joy and greed and sex  
That's what makes our town the best  
Pride and joy and dirty dreams and still surviving on the street  
And look at me, I'm in tatters, yeah  
I've been battered, what does it matter  
Does it matter, uh-huh  
Does it matter, uh-huh,  
I'm a-shattered

From the song, "Shattered" by The Rolling Stones

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Prologue: Shattered

Needless to say, the Final Battle had not gone as Lord Voldemort had intended.

He knew when he saw the triumphant smirk on Draco Malfoy's face that it was all over. Damn the bratty bastard to hell! All his well-laid plans were shattering . . . and now, his soul was shattering as well.

He'd drunk the Potion, thinking it was going to bring him Immortality, but instead, all it was bringing him was Death.

An angry green vortex of magic began to swirl around his body. He had the presence of mind to curse as he dropped to his knees, but even _he _wasn't immune to the drama of his situation. For one surreal moment, he remembered an old movie he'd seen as a child, when he'd lived amongst the Muggles and didn't know who he really was. He recalled the scene where Dorothy killed the Wicked Witch in "The Wizard of Oz".

His mind screamed at Malfoy: "Ohhh -- you cursed brat! Look what you've done! I'm melting! Melting!" He wanted to shout it at the loathsome boy, but when he opened his scaly mouth, nothing came out. "It's strange, the things one thinks about at the time of death," he thought fleetingly.

Then he felt the pain.

As the Order of the Phoenix began to utter the Soul Shattering Spell, his broken mind reached for Ginny Weasley. If he was going to die, he was taking her with him. It would be the perfect revenge on both Potter and Malfoy, as they both loved the traitorous girl, but once again, fate intervened and instead of pulling Ginny Weasley into the vortex of his shattering soul, he pulled in her stupid, dimwitted brother. The Dark Lord felt Ron Weasley's soul slip by him but by then, he was beyond caring.

He was too busy writhing on the ground in agony.

In a sudden flash of green light, his soul exploded and everything that happened next, happened very slowly . . . at least to his shattered mind.

Even as the pieces of his soul were being flung away, some of them fought to coalesce. They gathered at a focal point . . . random pieces of his very being. As his soul battled vainly against oblivion, he heard a voice calling him . . . calling the lost parts back to a gathering place. Most of his soul ignored the voice and flew away in different directions.

But some of the stronger pieces paused, as if looking for a place to rest.

And then his fractured spirit found its mark.

_"Come to me, father. Come to me."_ The voice was the barest of whispers.

In an instant, a tiny bit of Lord Voldemort's consciousness dropped into the body of a middle-aged man in East Sussex, having a late dinner with his wife. The man felt an energy slam into his body and he thought he heard triumphant laughter in his head.

_"That's strange,"_ he thought. _"Why do I suddenly have the urge to take over the world?"_ He blinked and let out a strangled gurgling sound.

"What's that, dear?"

"Oh, erm . . . nothing, my pet. Is it drafty in here? I thought I just felt a draft."

"Don't be silly. Why would there be a draft in the middle of our dining room? You charmed it to stay warm, right? Are you catching a cold?"

"No, I feel fine now." His wife shook her head in exasperation.

Shrugging, he went back to sipping his tea and doing the crossword puzzle.

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Sirius Black regarded the young woman below him, as she moaned in ecstasy.

"Oh Sirius . . . Siiiiiiiiirius!"

He couldn't help an arrogant grin as the girl shuddered beneath him. Great Merlin, she was a hellcat and half his age, to boot! _"Ol' Snape has nothing on me, the fucking fertile bastard,"_ he snickered to himself. As her body began to convulse, Sirius felt himself letting go and with a barking howl, he came hard and ferociously. The woman continued to moan as his movements slowed, then finally stopped. Spent, he reached down to give her an affectionate, biting kiss, before rolling off her.

"You were magnificent, love," she murmured. "Even as drunk as you are, you're still the best lover this side of Hogsmeade."

"Only on this side of Hogsmeade?" he pouted.

She gave him a knowing leer. "You are a cad, Sirius Black." He reached for her again and began nibbling on her neck. He could feel his arousal springing to life once again.

"Gods, Sirius! You're insatiable," she laughed, shaking her head. "No more for me tonight. I have to get some sleep, I'm working tomorrow. Daddy will be expecting me early."

"But I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. I want to practice them on you," he whispered seductively.

She giggled and pushed him away. "Perhaps if you're a _good_ little doggie, we can have a bit of a lie-in before I have to leave. You can show me your latest in the morning." She turned over on her side and it wasn't long before Sirius heard her breathing become slow and regular.

Sighing in defeat, he sat up and walked over to a table in his bedroom. An empty bottle of Old Ogden's Fire Whiskey was perched on its surface but he tried to pour another glass anyway. Only a couple of drops came out, as Sirius gave the bottle another futile shake.

"Nothing is as grim as it seems . . . there has to be another bottle here somewhere," he muttered to himself. He knew he'd probably finished the last of the Ogden's that he'd stored in his liquor cabinet. He remembered sharing it with his mates the night that Voldemort had been defeated, two months earlier. Undaunted, he continued to search his room for another bottle.

Sirius was used to beating the odds.

Eight years earlier, he'd fallen behind the archway of the Veil of Shadows while dueling with his bitch cousin, Bellatrix LeStrange. If it hadn't been for Albus Dumbledore, he'd have eternally floated in a bubble of oblivion, caught in a dimension between Life and Death.

As his hand reached under the bed, his fingers curled around a familiar bottle. Chuckling in victory, he poured himself another drink and allowed his mind to drift back to Harry's sixth year.

Unbeknownst to all but a few, Albus Dumbledore had spent the better part of that year researching a way to get Sirius back and had finally gone to the Ministry building to retrieve him. That had been a true moment of weirdness. As time didn't exist behind the Veil, in Sirius' mind, he had just slipped in when suddenly Dumbledore's head had poked through the curtain. "Ah, there you are," the Headmaster had murmured, as if he'd misplaced his glasses. Before Sirius could even form a thought, Albus had pulled him through to the other side.

As quickly as that, his ordeal had been over.

Once he'd appeared again at the Department of Mysteries, Sirius found to his surprise that a whole year had passed since he'd been gone. His return had cost Albus a lot of magic and it had taken almost a year for the Headmaster to completely recover from his mission. In a feeble voice, he'd told Harry and Sirius that he'd owed it to The-Boy-Who-Lived to bring his godfather back.

The barmy old wizard had figured that he'd somehow failed Harry and that now his debt was paid. Harry had been ecstatic to have Sirius back and whatever problems he'd had with the Headmaster were laid permanently to rest.

Finishing his drink, Sirius eyed the blonde woman in his bed. Some folks thought she was a bit "off", but Sirius liked that about the girl. In fact, a lot of wizards said the same thing about Sirius himself. He and the young witch had been going out for about a month now and while they had very little in common, it didn't seem to matter much when they were shagging like there was no tomorrow.

_"One never knows,"_ he thought cynically.

Climbing next to her, he snuggled under the blankets as his mind drifted off to sleep. He reached to pull her closer and his last conscious thought was, _"I'm glad Remus had me de-fleaed this morning. Fleas would have killed the mood."_

His next conscious thought was "What the bloody hell?"

His companion was shaking him awake, a look of fury on her face.

"You bastard!"

"Eh?" Sirius was still half asleep, but was instantly aroused when he felt the sting of her hand against his cheek.

"Who is she?"

"Wha?"

"Who is Cissy?"

"Wha?"

"You stupid prick! Is that all you can say? A moment ago you were moaning in your sleep. Cissy . . . Cissy . . . I love you, Cissy."

Sirius fought the urge to say, "Wha?" one more time. He searched his mind and suddenly, he reddened. He reached for the girl in a plaintive gesture.

"Luna . . . love . .. there is no Cissy. You have to believe me. You're the only girl for me."

"Likely story, you two-timing pillock! Hermione warned me about you. I should have listened!"

Sobbing, Luna Lovegood gathered all her clothing and stormed out of his flat. Sirius was left alone and stunned.

He groaned, running his hands over his face.

He knew perfectly well who Cissy was. His face reddened again in mortification. He'd been dreaming about her recently, and once again, they'd been in the midst of passionate lovemaking.

Oh Gods! What was happening to him?

He'd never thought of his cousin that way, yet lately, he'd been plagued by vivid dreams . . . dreams that were too shocking for him ever to consciously admit.

Why?

_Why was he having sexual dreams about Narcissa Malfoy?_

Sirius got up and began to nervously pace in his room. Finally, he sank down in an armchair and buried his head in his shaking hands.

There would be no sleep for him tonight.

And if these dreams continued, he never wanted to sleep again.

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"Where's the food? You promised food, Hermione!"

Hermione gave Harry an affectionate grin as she huffed, "Hold your Quaffle, you git! The food is just around the corner in an adjacent room. And I thought Ron was bad! Are you sure you're not channeling -" she stopped awkwardly. "Oh, I shouldn't have . . . I'm sorry, Harry." She looked at him in apprehension.

"Don't be sorry, love. Ron would have really enjoyed this. I only wish he were here."

"Me too," she sighed.

It had been a difficult three months since Ron's death.

Hermione gave Harry a small, comforting smile as they linked arms and surveyed the room. The Great Hall in Hogwarts was decorated in beautiful white roses and champagne coloured linens.

The wedding guests were milling about, talking animatedly with each other.

There was an excited buzz in the air: Voldemort was dead and the world was full of fresh new beginnings.

After all, it wasn't everyday that an old, crusty and confirmed bachelor married the most brilliant witch of the twenty-first century. Or so everyone kept telling Hermione and Severus Snape. Hermione chuckled as she remembered her new husband's look of irritation at such pronouncements. "Don't worry, love," she'd cooed tenderly. "You're not that old and I'm not that brilliant." He'd given her his most dazzling smile.

"You married me, so you _must_ be brilliant," he'd whispered in her ear, before giving her lobe a playful nip.

"Oh, I'm only marrying you because --"

The rest of her reply had been decidedly naughty.

While they'd kept it simple, it had been a beautiful ceremony. Hermione's ivory gown clung to her curves, showing the barest hint of her early pregnancy, and while she'd fretted about that, Ginny Weasley had assured her that the tiny baby growing inside of her gave her a most becoming glow. She was truly radiant.

And when Severus Snape locked eyes with her the first moment he saw her walking towards him, she felt like the most beautiful witch on Earth. Their love for each was clearly evident on their faces.

All their friends and families were there. It was a truly magnificent celebration.

Peering around a corner, Draco Malfoy met Hermione's eye and motioned for her to join him. Hermione looked hesitantly at Harry, who just shrugged. "Go see what the little poofter wants, Hermione. You'll pardon me if I don't join you."

"I heard that Potter! And that's _Prince_ Poofter to you, wanker!" Draco yelled, giving Harry a superior smirk.

"Wanker" was Malfoy's favorite term of endearment for Harry. Harry was beginning to think his name was Harry Wanker.

He shook his head and counted to ten to calm his temper. Ever since Malfoy had been approached by The Ministry to become the next Prince of Avalon, he had been bloody impossible. Harry still couldn't understand the political forces that had made that abomination possible. He recalled Albus Dumbledore trying to explain it to him, but the only thing his frazzled mind could think of was, _"Oh great! Here's just another thing that's sure to elevate Malfoy to the Obnoxious Hall of Fame."_

Obnoxious didn't begin to cover it.

Apparently there were many witches and wizards, especially from the Ancient Houses, who were clamoring for a monarch in the aftermath of Voldemort's demise. But why it had to be Draco Malfoy . . .

Harry sighed. The last thing he wanted was Malfoy spoiling his evening. His eyes searched the crowd, finally resting on the one person he wanted to talk to.

Hermione slowly made her way towards Draco, pausing to hug Seamus and Lavendar along the way. Malfoy squirmed with impatience.

"Take your time," he called out insolently.

Hermione ignored his surliness. "Where's Ginny?" she asked, as she finally stood next to him.

"It appears that Wanker has cornered her. I swear, why doesn't he get his own girlfriend? Why does he have to sniff around mine?" he pouted, not expecting an answer.

Hermione only shook her head in exasperation. She'd heard it all a million times.

Draco plucked a rose from a nearby bouquet, and bringing it up to his nose, he breathed in its fragrance with an irreverent snort.

"I've noticed that the room is decorated in our signature white roses. I knew you couldn't forget our love, even if you're married to that impossible git." Draco grinned in delight as Hermione began to berate him.

"You were the worst fake-boyfriend I ever had," she said severely, before breaking out in a fit of giggles.

"That's no way to speak to your future Monarch. And giggling does not become you."

"Stuff it, Malfoy," she said playfully. "You'll always be just another little bugger to me. Prince indeed."

"That's _Prince_ Bugger to you," he said smugly.

Severus joined them, and he reached for Hermione's hand, bringing it to his lips. "I prefer the phrase, "The Bugger formerly known as Prince," he said in a dry tone.

"Ah, Muggle humor, Uncle Severus. Hermione is clearly corrupting you."

Severus just sneered affectionately at Draco before turning to Hermione.

"It's time to eat, my love. The house-elves are waiting to serve us."

Hermione bit her lip. Although she'd given up on S.P.E.W. long ago, she still wasn't comfortable being waited on by house-elves. They, on the other hand, made it clear that they were delighted to be a part of "Master Snape's wedding." They'd been highly affronted when they'd learned that Hermione tried to talk Severus out of it. They wouldn't speak to her for weeks before she'd finally relented. Severus led her to the main table as Draco went to gather Ginny.

Everyone had happily settled and they were starting on the main course when suddenly Sybil Trelawney rose from her seat.

_"Hem hem hem_," she said, in an eerie imitation of Delores Umbridge. "Attention everyone!"

Severus gave her a worried frown. She'd been tearing through the cocktails all evening and he'd feared that she was going to make a scene.

Little did he know.

Her bracelets jangled and her eyes looked even more bug-like than usual. She pointed a bony finger at Draco and a deep, unfamiliar voice issued dramatically from her throat:

_"He who came after shall rise!  
Sent to stop the tides of the oceans  
And the phases of the moon.  
A Dark Secret is his weapon,  
Nothing is as it seems,"_

She swayed slightly before continuing:

_"The only hope is the One who Sees  
In union with opposing forces,  
Lest the House of Malfoy falls."_

Sybil Trelawney sat down, then promptly passed out, her face falling into a plate of chicken salad.

Everyone looked at each other in confusion. Then all eyes turned to Malfoy, staring at him expectantly.

Draco cleared his throat. "Well, that certainly beats the toast I was planning," he said sarcastically. "It's obvious that Sybil has been snorting too much incense again. She's clearly gone 'round the bend."

Nobody moved or made a sound.

Draco drew himself up and gave the crowd a haughty look. _"Well?_ What are you waiting for? Carry on," he commanded.

Everyone abruptly started eating again in unison, as if choreographed by dancing veelas. There was an uneasy silence.

Harry immediately started rubbing his forehead, although it was more out of habit than anything ominous. His scar had disappeared at the time of Voldemort's death, as had the high voice whispering in his head.

Hermione leaned over towards him, noticing that Harry was murmuring to himself.

"Not again," he muttered to no one in particular. "Not another bloody Prophecy!"

_To be continued . . ._

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As always, I'd like to thank my beta Elizabeth . . .


	2. Chapter 1: If

Author's Note: I'd like to say a personal thank-you to Lady Rhiyana for leaving such a nice review of the Prologue. I would have sent her a personal e-mail, but I didn't have her address. I'm thrilled because Lady Rhiyana wrote one of my favorite Ginny/Draco stories. It's called "Unforgiven" and it's really marvelous! It's here on . . . go check it out, if you haven't already.

And now on with the show:

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If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,   
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,   
If all men count with you, but none too much:   
If you can fill the unforgiving minute   
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,   
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

From the poem, "If" by Rudyard Kipling

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Chapter 1: If

Two weeks after the wedding, Draco walked into the parlour of Malfoy Manor to find his mother and his Uncle Severus deep in conversation. They abruptly stopped talking when they saw him, a rather guilty look on their faces. Draco knew immediately that they'd been talking about him and he paused to study Narcissa Malfoy. At age 44, she was still a stunner: her ice-blonde hair was swept up in an elegant twist, and her porcelain skin was set off by deep violet, designer robes. Her large blue eyes widened when she saw him.

"No need to stop on my account. Hello, Mother . . . Uncle Severus," Draco said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Draco, dear. How are you, love?" His mother reached up to kiss him on the cheek and ruffled his long, unbound hair. It was the same icy colour as her own. "And Severus is not your uncle," she reminded him for the thousandth time. "He's my third cousin--"

"Twice removed, yes I know that, thank you. But he'll always be 'Uncle Severus' to me." Draco gave Severus a fond grin.

"He also happens to be standing right here," Severus answered dryly. "Your mother and I were just discussing the implications of the Prophecy."

"I'm very worried, sweetheart," said Narcissa.

"That's a first," Draco muttered under his breath. He looked at his mother and his face brightened artificially. "There's no need to be worried. Uncle Severus and I will figure it out. Why don't you run along now and do something frivolous, like planning your next party, or fixing your hair again? Or having another affair, perhaps?"

His mother had the audacity to look hurt. "There's no need to be flippant with me, young man. I was just concerned about you, that's all."

Draco gave her an apologetic smile. "That's very sweet of you, Mum. But like I said, there's no need to worry. I'll be fine."

Narcissa looked doubtfully at Severus, who nodded in reassurance. "I'll handle it, Narcissa," he told her.

"Well, I do have someone to meet for lunch," she said absently.

"That's it, run along, I'll be just fine with Uncle Severus."

Narcissa gave her son an appraising look before gliding gracefully from the room. At the doorway she turned, however, pausing to speak.

"Are you going to see that Weasley girl today?" The scorn was evident in her voice.

"Yes I am and her name is Ginny. It's short for Ginevra. And I see her most everyday now." Draco's eyes narrowed as he mentally dared his mother to say anything more.

Narcissa gave a delicate sniff. "Oh I suppose she's lovely enough, but she's just a common Weasley, Draco. You can do better than her."

Draco barely held his temper. "Oh, you mean better like Lucius Malfoy? Ah yes, you _really_ know how to pick 'em, Mother," he said sarcastically. "You're the last person I'd go to for advice on my love life."

His mother flushed gracefully before turning tail and silently exiting the room.

Severus shook his head. "You really should treat your mother with more respect, young man."

"Hmmm . . . I don't recall you treating your _own _mother with respect."

"Do as I say, not as I do," murmured Severus, his lips twitching in a subtle smile.

Draco flounced on a nearby couch. "She hasn't done anything to earn my respect, Uncle. She has no right to put Ginny down. Lucius was the worst husband and father. You'll recall that he was a wife-beater and a child molester, not to mention all the murder and mayhem. At least I escaped the molestation and murder, but he made our lives a living hell and Mother did nothing to change that. Good riddance to him, at least."

"Your mother did the best she could, under the circumstances," said Severus in her defence.

"Perhaps, perhaps," Draco conceded reluctantly. "So . . . let's talk about more pleasant things. How's Hermione? Is she still the Barf Queen? Last time I saw her, she was singing to a toilet. It was very disgusting."

"Her morning sickness has completely abated, but I'll be sure to convey your concern to her," Severus snarled.

Draco grinned at getting a good snarl out of his uncle. "I'm just teasing, Severus. You never could take a good tease. And if I may change the subject, what were you and Mother _really_ talking about?"

"Well," said Severus, beginning to pace. "Aside from talking about the Prophecy, your mother mentioned your upcoming training."

"My training? For what?"

"Draco," said Severus in exasperation. "You can't just walk into Camlann Castle and expect to take over as Prince of Avalon! It's been over three centuries since wizarding Britain has seen a monarch . . . there is much to prepare before you can rule."

"I suppose. I didn't think about that when I accepted," said Draco. " So what will my training entail? I already have the basics down." He lifted his chin and gave Severus a haughty sneer. "We- are -not- amused," he said in an exaggerated drawl. He grinned. "See? There's nothing to it."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He was always pinching it after a few minutes in Draco's company. "This is precisely what I'm talking about. You have no idea, do you, what it takes to govern. Let me give you a demonstration of what you're in for with your training. Come here, you foolish boy."

Draco obediently rose and stood next to Severus.

With that, Severus Snape whipped out his wand and whacked Draco in the back of the head with it.

"Stand up straight!" he barked.

"Ow!"

"The Prince of Avalon does not say, 'Ow'! You're royalty now! Posture is important! Stand up straight and repeat after me: The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain."

Draco gaped at him. _"What?_ That's my training? And why does that Spain thing sound so familiar?"

"A monarch never asks stupid questions!" Severus roared, whacking Draco with his wand again.

"Stop that! Stop hitting me!"

"No, you clueless boy, you're supposed to say, 'Stop it at once! How dare you strike the Royal Heir? Guards, seize him!' " Severus eyed Draco critically.

"You certainly have a lot to learn and that's only the beginning."

"Oh joy," said Draco under his breath. "So are you training me? Because if so, I'll just commit suicide now and get it over with."

Severus chuckled. "No . . . there's someone who is much more qualified than I. Have you ever heard of the House of Gwynedd?"

Draco frowned. "I remember studying Gwynedd in our History of Magic class. Ol' Binns harped on that subject for a quite a while. I could hardly stay awake for any of it. Doesn't Gwynedd have something to do with King Arthur? His son Mordred ruled Gwynedd, if I recall."

Severus nodded. "At least your education wasn't a complete waste. Gwynedd was an ancient village in Wales. The House of Gwynedd served the monarchs of wizarding Britain for centuries. They passed on ancient secrets, knowledge and history to the royal heirs, but after the last King of Avalon fell in 1698, they disappeared into obscurity. Nobody at the Ministry was even sure that anyone was left from the family. Fortunately, they found someone who is uniquely qualified to train you. His name is Eldorf of Gwynedd.

"His name is Eldorf? I have to take my training from a bloke named Eldorf?"

"Trust me," said Severus. "By the time he is finished with you, you will have learned to respect the very name of Eldorf." He gave Draco a sadistic smile.

Draco shuddered.

It was _definitely_ time to change the subject again. "So . . . what else were you talking to Mother about?" he asked casually.

"I told you, she asked me to stop by to talk about Sybil Trelawney's prophecy. She's very shaken about it, especially that part about the House of Malfoy falling."

Draco approached a pitcher of orange juice that was sitting on a nearby table. "Surely you don't believe anything that looney Trelawney says," said Draco as he poured himself a glass. He picked up another glass and held it up to Severus, who shook his head.

"Sybil Trelawney may be borderline fraudulent, but that prophecy had a ring of truth to it," Severus said, his voice sounding worried. "It seemed genuine."

Draco looked at him in amusement. "Maybe she made a mistake," he said hopefully. "She was pretty drunk. Perhaps instead of 'The only hope is the One who Sees', she meant 'The only hope is the One who Tees' . . . maybe I'll be saved by a Muggle golfer." He quickly warmed to the subject matter: "Or maybe she meant 'The only hope is the One with Fleas' . . . that could mean Sirius Black, you know. Perhaps we should warn him that he's been named in a prophecy."

Severus looked at Draco as if he'd gone completely mad. "It's hard to believe that you are the best hope of the wizarding world," he snapped in irritation.

"Well honestly, Severus! You can't take anything that fruitcake says seriously . . . no pun intended, of course."

"Of course," said Severus dryly. "Nevertheless, that 'fruitcake' has been known to get a prophecy or two right. It makes me uneasy."

"There's nothing we can do about it, at least not now. I promise I'll be careful . . . and I'll be sure to avoid golf courses, not that I even know what they look like." Draco gave his uncle a cheeky grin. "Perhaps Aunt Hermione can show me a picture. It's helpful having a Muggle-born relative around."

Severus grimaced at Draco calling Hermione his 'aunt' and gave an exaggerated sigh before answering. "Yes, you're correct, there's nothing to do about it now. You'll just have to keep a close eye out for anything unusual." He pulled out his pocket watch and frowned. "I have a meeting with Professor Wentworth at Oxford and I'm running late. _Do_ try to stay out of trouble until I get back." As he approached the fireplace to throw in a pinch of Floo powder, he could hear Draco muttering behind him.

"The only hope is the One with Cheese . . . no, that's probably not it. Hmmmm, think think . . . The only hope is the One who Pees . . .no, that's just plain gross . . . what else? The only hope -- "

Severus couldn't get away fast enough.

Eldorf had his work cut out for him.

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Hermione was breathless with anticipation. "Did you bring it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Grabbing Ginny by the arm, Hermione pulled the redhead into the bedroom. "Well? What are you waiting for? Out with it!" she demanded.

"Are we alone?" Ginny shifted her eyes furtively, checking for eavesdroppers.

"Thankfully, yes. Severus is out for the afternoon. He'd have a fit if he knew you brought it into the house."

Looking around, Ginny took stock of the bedroom and whistled in admiration. "Oh, Hermione! Your bedroom is beautiful! It's so cheerfully bright and the colour scheme is just gorgeous." She giggled. "Severus must hate it."

"You have no idea," muttered Hermione, thinking of their first marital fight. She impatiently held out her hand. "So? Let's see it! I'm dying to take a look."

Ginny pulled out a copy of the latest Witch Weekly and Hermione squealed in delight when she saw the cover.

"Oh, oh!" she gasped. "The look on Draco's face . . . it's priceless!" She howled in mirth.

Ginny doubled over, letting out peals of laughter. She was on the verge of hysterics. "Every time I look at it I can't stop laughing," she said with tears in her eyes. "And Harry looks like he just drank a glass of Bubotubar pus right before they snapped the picture!"

Two heads, one bright, the other dark, bent together to get a closer look:

The cover of Witch Weekly was divided between two pictures: On the left was a picture of Draco Malfoy, his arms folded against his chest as he casually leaned against a doorway. His blonde hair was loosely tied back, and his beautiful silver eyes stood out prominently. His stance said, "I'm cool beyond belief and waaaaay out of your league, but if you want to drool over me, you may do so at this time." He waggled an eyebrow suggestively and his hand would periodically smooth an imaginary stray hair out of his face, in a dramatic, sweeping gesture.

Harry's picture was on the right side of the magazine cover and he was dressed in his Quidditch glory, leaning forward against his broom. He looked boyish and charming but he had a smile on his face that looked suspiciously like a grimace. His dark hair was sticking out in marvelous unruliness and his stance said, "This is stupid and embarrassing, and I don't understand the fuss, but if you want to take my picture, by all means go ahead." His emerald eyes twinkled with good humour, though his image squirmed uncomfortably.

The caption at the bottom of the cover screamed, **"Who is the sexiest bachelor in wizarding Britain: Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy? YOU DECIDE! VOTE NOW!" **Draco's picture would pause every now and then to stick his tongue out at Harry, whose image would then roll its eyes and wave its hand in irritation as if swatting away a particularly annoying insect.

Hermione read the caption and started snickering again. "Oh, this is too funny! Severus is bound to find out, though. He's been counseling Draco about his royal future, and when he gets a load of this, Draco may not _have _a future."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "I suppose Draco is doing this because he knows once he's crowned Prince of Avalon, he'll have advisors and image consultants telling him what to do and say in public. He's dreading it, you know. I believe this is a pre-emptive strike. He'll never get to do something like this again, I'm sure."

"I'm glad I lived to see it, though," said Hermione. "I'll be teasing them both about it well into old age." She regarded Ginny thoughtfully and asked, "Would you like some tea?"

Ginny shook her head as she sat cross-legged on Hermione and Severus' bed. Hermione noticed a slight frown on Ginny's face.

"Is something wrong? Are you and Draco alright?"

Ginny sighed. "Draco and I are doing fine, for now, anyway. It's just that I really don't understand all this royalty stuff, Hermione. Draco has tried to explain it, but honestly? I thought that Harry would have been the one chosen to be the new prince, not Draco."

Hermione sat next to Ginny on the bed. "I suspect that you don't understand it because wizarding Britain hasn't had a royal ruler in centuries," she said. "Those of us who are Muggle-born have an easier time understanding it as Muggle Britain has been subject to a monarchy for over a thousand years. Of course, its role has drastically changed since its inception. Perhaps it would be helpful if you understood how the royal system came to be in the first place."

Ginny braced herself for an academic lecture.

"The system of kings as rulers actually evolved during prehistoric times when people banded together in small groups," began Hermione, in her best schoolmarm voice. "This was in order to increase their chances of survival. Each of these small groups of people was led by the strongest warrior, who, by virtue of his warring and hunting skills became the chieftain. Chieftains, in turn, secured their place of domination by choosing women as mates who could give them strong sons in order to increase the numbers in their tribes. It was all about strength, virility and domination. Over time, tribes grew in numbers and conquered each other, becoming even larger and their chieftains eventually became kings. Thus, the modern monarchial system of government was formed."

Ginny bit her lip thoughtfully. "So, if I'm understanding you correctly, in the beginning, only the strongest and most virile ruled as kings." Hermione nodded as Ginny smiled at the thought. Draco certainly _was_ strong and virile. But she was still brimming with questions.

"So how did the system survive into modern times?" she asked.

"Oh, it was a matter of breeding and tradition. Strong kings produced strong sons, or so the thinking went, and because the King was so physically and intellectually powerful, he passed down the right to rule to his children. It made a certain amount of biological sense and it was accepted into the culture in many parts of the world. Just about every nation of the Old World has a history of kings and royalty as a form of government. The traits of the fathers are supposedly passed down to their children and thus the system perpetuated itself."

Ginny shivered. Thankfully, Draco did not inherit the traits of his father.

"But Hermione, we're no longer a bunch of ancient tribes. Why is the monarchy so important to some wizards in this day and age?" she asked.

"Good question! I suppose the answer has to do with tradition, like I said." Hermione grinned at Ginny, obviously relishing the history lesson.

"Voldemort exploited the arrogance of the Ancient Houses and fostered the idea that they were all biologically and magically superior to Muggle-born wizards," Hermione continued. "You see, in order to remain in the wizarding aristocracy, those in the Ancient Houses had to marry only purebloods like themselves. They believed that because of their history and breeding, they had the right to hold positions of power, as had been the tradition since the beginning of recorded time. While not all wizards and witches of the Ancient Houses approved of Voldemort's methods, most believe that the right to rule is something that is biologically passed down. Many of them abhor the democratic system of government, such as that of the Ministry of Magic, where officials are either elected or appointed to their posts. The Ministry does not recognize the right to govern simply by virtue of one's family ancestry."

Hermione paused.

"Are you beginning to see why Harry would never have been accepted as the Prince of Avalon by the Ancient Houses?"

"Because his mother was Muggle-born," answered Ginny, realization dawning.

Hermione nodded. "And Draco comes from a long line of aristocracy. His family can be traced back to some of the first kings of wizarding Britain. If that weren't enough, he's a hero in the fight against the Dark Lord and thus he's a hero to Muggle-born wizards as well. In fact, Draco is a link between the Ancient Houses and everybody else in wizarding Britain. The Ancient Houses recognize his right to rule by virtue of his bloodline. Those with Muggle ancestry recognize his right to rule by virtue of his bravery and heroism in the War. If Voldemort had prevailed during the Final Battle, every Muggle-born wizard would have been wiped out of existence. Draco fought to prevent that. And now --

"And now he's earned the right to rule as Monarch, as far as most everyone in wizarding Britain is concerned," finished Ginny.

Hermione frowned, "Yes, well . . . he's also got the blessing of the Ministry of Magic. Those in the present government have been worried that the Ancient Houses would rebel on their own, now that Voldemort has been defeated. The Ancient Houses need to feel like they got _something _out of this war and having a new monarch is a way to placate them. Draco was the logical choice."

Ginny thought about this for a moment. "But obviously not all wizards of the Ancient Houses believe in their own magical superiority. Your husband comes from the House of Snape, yet he happily married a Muggle-born witch."

"That's because Uncle Severus is a barmcake," drawled a familiar voice.

Two feminine heads snapped up in unison as Ginny and Hermione stared at the doorway. In a remarkable imitation of his magazine cover, Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, a look of wicked mischief on his face. A house-elf was standing next to him, wringing his hands in agitation.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Snape," the little elf squeaked. "I told Lord Malfoy to wait for you in the parlour, but he insisted on coming to find you." He glanced at Draco in disapproval.

"That will be all, Loopy," said Draco, giving the elf a dismissive wave.

"It's Lippy, sir."

"Right then. That will be all, Lippy sir."

Ginny suppressed a snort of laughter, while Hermione just frowned at him.

Draco walked purposefully into the bedroom and pulled Ginny roughly into his arms. Before she could make a sound he reached down and gave her a long, delicious kiss. As always when Draco Malfoy kissed her, Ginny felt her bones melting to the floor. The warm kiss seemed to stretch for an eternity before they heard Hermione clearing her throat.

"Do you mind? I'm pregnant and nauseated enough as it is."

Draco started laughing as he reluctantly broke the kiss. "We'll have to save it for later, sweetness," he murmured softly to Ginny.

"It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here, Draco?" interrupted Hermione.

"I actually came looking for Ginny at the Burrow as I knew it was her day off," he said, giving Ginny a wide smile. "Your mum said you were here. By the way, what were you two talking about, hmmmm? You seemed deep in conversation."

"Hermione was just giving me a history lesson."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "That sounds unbelievably uninteresting but right now we have other things to worry about." He shifted uncomfortably. "There's no easy way to tell you this, but I'm afraid that I was followed here and erm . . . well . . . there's a hoard of paparazzi surrounding your house, Hermione. I couldn't shake them."

"You brought the press to my house?" said Hermione in disbelief. "You're lucky Severus isn't here. He'd have the royal head on a platter."

"I'm sorry, love. I guess I'm not used to having to deal with all this attention."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "How on Earth did the press find you? Didn't you Apparate here?"

"Hmm, good question. I have no idea how they found me."

Hermione reached for her wand on the nightstand and ran it up and down Draco's body, while he watched with mild interest. When she got to about chest level, her wand began shooting out little orange sparks. Hermione immediately stuck her hand down Draco's shirt.

"Hermione!" Draco said happily. "Not in front of my girlfriend!"

Hermione let out a pained sigh as she pulled a very large, very gaudy gold necklace from under his collar. The pendant was a giant letter "M" and it was decorated in rows of huge rhinestones.

"What the hell is this?"

Draco shrugged. "I got it at a Muggle tavern last night. A nice chap gave it to me. If I'm going to rule the country, then I must learn more about Muggle culture. The bloke said it's something that 'rap musicians' wear. I have no idea what rap music is . . . but lookee here! It's "M" for Malfoy!"

Hermione stared at him in mock awe. "Are you completely thick? This thing has been charmed, you dolt! Whoever gave it to you put a Locator Charm on it. That's how the press was able to follow you."

"Oops," said Draco nonchalantly.

Ginny interjected. "Well, it's no big problem, is it? We can always leave by Floo or just Apparate back to my place."

"Oh no," said Draco. "We're not going back to your place. I have other plans for us. And besides, what harm could it do if we give them what they want? Come out and greet them with me, Ginny." He nodded his head towards the door.

Hermione frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh, tut!" said Draco, pulling Ginny with them. "It will be fun!"

Draco led a reluctant Ginny down the stairs . . . all the while Hermione was murmuring how he shouldn't be doing this and shouldn't he just wait for Severus to advise him?

Draco pointedly ignored her.

As Ginny and Draco walked out the front door, there was a roar of delight from the crowd in front of the house. Ginny had never seen so many cameras in one place and she froze nervously.

Draco addressed the crowd: "We will answer no questions, but you may take a few pictures if you'd like." He pulled Ginny in front of him and put his arm around her in a tender, protective gesture. Bending to her ear, she could feel his warm breath as he whispered to her in reassurance. "It's alright, my love. If we're to make a success of our relationship you'd better get used to this." The cameras started clicking.

Ginny immediately closed her eyes and relaxed in his arms. As he finished whispering to her, he gave her a soft kiss behind her ear and the staccato of the cameras intensified. Draco continued to whisper soothingly to her, all the while, the cameras whirled furiously. Ginny gave the crowd a shy, dreamy smile. The whole world seemed to melt away and it was just him and her, and maybe some chocolate sauce . . .

Suddenly Draco straightened up and his demeanor completely changed, "ALRIGHT, YOU FUCKING WOLFHOUNDS!" he yelled at the crowd, shaking his fist. "YOU'VE HAD YOUR FUN! NOW LEAVE US ALONE! THAT IS A DIRECT ORDER AND IF YOU DON'T OBEY IT, YOU WILL ALL HAVE TO KISS MY ROYAL --

With a POP! Draco and Ginny Disapparated, leaving stunned photographers in their wake.

Hermione shook her head in amusement, as she had seen everything from her parlour window.

"Vintage Draco Malfoy," she chuckled to herself.

To be continued . . .

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Author's Note: Severus Snape whipped out his wand in this chapter . . . hehehehe.

And I had to have Draco drinking orange juice, not pumpkin juice. Narcissa would never stand for pumpkin juice, as I believe it is the wizarding world's version of Kool-Aid.

A big thank-you to everyone who reviewed. I appreciate the feedback! And thanks to my wonderful beta, Elizabeth!


	3. Chapter 2: Stars

A somewhat legal disclaimer: This fic is rated R for language and sexual situations. All characters belong to JK Rowling and all the folks at Scholastic, etc. The plot is mine as only a demented mind could come up with this stuff.

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Suddenly before my eyes   
Hues of indigo arise   
With them how my spirit sighs   
Paint the sky with stars   
  
Only night will ever know   
Why the heavens never show   
All the dreams there are to know   
Paint the sky with stars

From the song "Paint the Sky with Stars" by Enya

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Chapter 2: Stars

Press Release

May 16, 2006

Severus Snape, official spokesman for the future Prince of Avalon, has issued the following terse statement to the press: "Lord Malfoy wishes to convey his regrets concerning his obscene outburst yesterday afternoon, which occurred outside Snape Manor. While he offers no excuse, his explanation is as follows, and I quote: 'I'm sorry, I was rather hung over and extremely grumpy. I apologize for any distress I caused and I humbly swear by Merlin's codpiece never to do it again.' "

Addendum from Mordecai Muffleton, Editor of the Daily Prophet: Despite repeated requests for clarification, Lord Snape did not return our Owls.

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Narcissa Malfoy surveyed the swarming throng in Diagon Alley and fought a rather suffocating sense of anxiety. While she usually loved shopping, no amount of velvet and silk could assuage the emotional upheaval she was currently experiencing. She'd gone to several shops, trying to lose herself in her spending spree, but it was utterly and completely useless.

"Things are spinning out of control," The sudden thought came with a genuine sense of melodrama.

Draco was growing closer and closer to Ginny Weasley and Narcissa feared he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

She just couldn't figure it out. Why would he throw everything away for that Nobody Weasley Girl?

"Despite his upbringing, he has always instinctively done all the right things," she said to herself and not for the first time. So why couldn't he see how wrong this was? After all, Draco had used his intellect and cunning in dealing with He-Who-Could-Not-Be-Named-Anymore-Because-He-Was-Dead and it had brought him here . . .

On the threshold of great power.

Draco understood power . . . he had been born to it. And the best part was, he'd done it all for the right, "noble" reasons.

"Whatever that means," she thought.

Forcing herself to walk briskly, Narcissa turned a corner only to barely avoid colliding with a snarling Sirius Black.

Wonderful. The look of naked loathing on his face hit her with the force of an Unforgivable, almost dropping her to her knees. For eight years they'd managed to avoid each other, but now, of all days . . .

"Watch where you're going, Princess," he spat, as he pushed a lock of long black hair off his angular face.

She looked at him with wide-eyed shock, which seemed to take him aback somewhat. However, she recovered her composure rather quickly.

"I'm terribly sorry, Cousin," she murmured. "And I'm not a princess, you blithering idiot. I am a Duchess."

Sirius raised a faux surprised eyebrow. "Of course you're not a princess. I didn't mean it in the literal sense, Duchess." He sneered on the word "Duchess".

"Perhaps you need to go home to find your misplaced sense of irony," he added scornfully.

Ignoring him, Narcissa pushed past impatiently, feeling his dark blue eyes burning a hole in her back. She resisted the urge to turn around and regally kept walking straight ahead.

"He still hates me," she thought bitterly. "No surprises there."

Things had gone completely wrong many years ago, beginning with her marriage to Lucius Malfoy, a man Sirius Black had despised with all his being. That loathing had only intensified through the years.

Narcissa knew that the reasons for their mutual hatred had been rather complicated, so she chose not to deeply examine them. And despite her protests that she'd been powerless to stop Lucius' machinations, her cousin had steadfastly refused to believe her. They'd spoken only once, about a month after he came back from the Veil, and then they never spoke to each other again.

Until now.

Naricissa forcefully pushed Sirius Black from her mind as she entered an elegant French restaurant on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. A young witch, who immediately recognized her, guided her to her usual table. She ordered a glass of Chardonnay and waited for her lunch companion.

Several patrons took note of her and she saw some of them whispering to each other as they sent indiscreet glances in her direction. Since Lucius' disgraceful death, she was used to being the subject of gossip. Thankfully, gossip didn't bother her anymore, although in her younger days she would have been absolutely mortified.

"Is this seat taken?"

She looked up into the laughing eyes of Emile Zabini, an old "family friend".

"I believe it belongs to you, as I've been waiting for your arrival," she smiled at him.

Emile Zabini, father to Blaise, sat down across from her as a waiter hurried over to greet him. Narcissa studied him covertly from under her lashes, as he reached for her hand, kissing it. He was a very handsome man, just a few years older than Narcissa. His dark hair was cut short by wizarding standards, but it suited him very nicely. He had a strong, rugged face, which belied an aristocratic ancestry almost as illustrious as that of the House of Malfoy. Narcissa could see a light dusting of gray at his temples, which complimented his eyes.

Those pale blue eyes looked at her in amusement, as he noticed her regard. "Do you like what you see?" he asked, in a deadpan tone.

Narcissa flushed.

"I won't lie to you Emile, you look very good. But then, you already know that."

Emile gave her an alluring smile. "And you, my dear, have never looked better. Widowhood suits you," he said mockingly.

"I'm enjoying it very much," she murmured as he chuckled.

"So, why did you want to see me? I thought we agreed that being lovers was ruining our friendship . . . well, that and the fact that my wife found out. Although," he added, "Perhaps now that Lucius is gone, you're getting lonely?" He raised a hopeful eyebrow at the word, "lonely."

Narcissa shook her head, smiling at his cheek. "No, Lucius was never much of a companion, so at least that much hasn't changed. And no, I didn't ask you to lunch to renew old acquaintances."

"Pity," he said sadly. "So why did you ask me here?"

"I want to talk to you about Draco."

Emile leaned back in his chair as he contemplated her with interest. "That sounds intriguing. Why would you want to talk to me about Draco? His future is secure, he's a shining star and he's richer than God. What could possibly be wrong?"

Naricssa pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet from her rather large handbag and handed it to him.

Emile whistled softly as he looked at the front page. "Oh. I see."

Splashed across the paper was a huge picture of Draco and Ginny Weasley. Draco had his arm around her, his face pressed against her slender neck. His image was intimately whispering in her ear and the headline read, **"Lord Malfoy Introduces His Lady Love".**

"Dreadful," commented Emile, shaking his head.

"Exactly," said Narcissa. "I don't have to tell you how concerned I am about this, do I?"

"Well, aside from the fact that it's in very bad taste, and Lucius is probably spinning in his grave, I think I see the problem. What was Draco thinking, posing for the press like that? He's showing an appalling lack of judgement. It's very undignified." He gave a graceful sniff.

Narcissa nodded in agreement. "It's bad enough that he flaunts his love life before the media, but to showcase that unsuitable woman is completely unforgivable. We have to do something about this, Emile."

"We?"

"He can't marry her, it will ruin him," she said vehemently. " The Ancient Houses will never accept her, for one thing. Her family is a disgrace to purebloods everywhere, everyone agrees with that. Draco's crown is already in jeopardy and he hasn't even begun his rule."

"But what can I do about this?"

"You're a clever man. You have connections . . . you know people with information. There has to be some way to show Draco that this union would be a disaster. Everyone has skeletons in their closets, even the Weasleys. Perhaps . . . " her voice trailed off.

"You needn't say anything else, my dear. I believe you're looking for a scandal. Hidden scandal is a specialty of mine. I'll send out a few discreet owls and see what I can scare up. But, and I have to ask this . . . what's in it for me?"

Narcissa gave a throaty laugh. "You're incorrigible, Emile Zabini. I'll get straight to the point . . . if this love affair," (here she grimaced delicately), "blows up in his face, he'll be looking for solace. Who better to be there for him than your daughter?"

"Blaise would make a wonderful Princess of Avalon," she added softly. "Don't you agree?"

Emile couldn't hide his delight. "And you'll encourage this, should his romance with the Weasley girl fail?"

"Absolutely. If you find a way to end his relationship with Ginny Weasley, I'll see to it that he turns to Blaise. They've been friends for years, after all."

"Do you have that kind of influence over your son?" Emile sounded doubtful.

"Of course I do," she lied. "He may be an adult, but he still listens to his mother."

"Consider it done then," said Emile arrogantly. "Blaise has always wanted Draco and I'm sure she'd be very happy to cooperate."

The waiter, who asked to take their order, interrupted them. They momentarily forgot the subject of their conversation as they looked over the menu. People continued to stare in their direction and Narcissa knew that they made a striking couple. Too bad their sexual chemistry had died out years ago, not that it was apparent to the onlookers.

Once their orders were taken, Emile raised a glass to her.

"Long live the Prince of Avalon," he said with enthusiasm.

"And long live Blaise Zabini, the future Princess of Avalon," Narcissa murmured quietly, as they clinked glasses.

"Draco doesn't stand a chance."

She couldn't help the triumphant smile that crossed her face at the thought.

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One of the things Ginny loved about Draco was his highly developed sense of adventure.

After all, he'd lived a rather audacious life in his short twenty-five years and in truth, she suspected that he was a Daredevil Junkie, rather like Harry Potter. And while Harry had always acted as if his adventures had been foisted unwillingly upon him, Draco definitely sought his life experiences out on purpose. He relished living on the edge.

As if reading her thoughts, he gave her a cocky grin.

"Worried, love?"

"Should I be? After all, I have no idea where we're going and the last time you did this, I landed in Romania, staring up the nose of a Norwegian Ridgeback. You could have warned me first, it startled the blazes out of me."

Draco shook his head. "What's the fun in warning you? You practically leapt into my lap, which was the reaction I was going for, anyway. And you got to see your brother, in the bargain."

Ginny sighed in mock aggravation.

Draco suddenly tugged on her hand to hurry her up a long sloping hill.

"We're almost there, just a bit farther," he encouraged her.

"Couldn't you have Apparated us closer to our destination?" Ginny winced at her whiny tone. She was also puffing with exertion.

Draco waved his hand dramatically. "What? And miss all this?"

She had to agree that the view was magnificent. They were walking through a wooded path and between the trees, Ginny could see the broad expanse of the ocean. Everything was lush and green and it smelled strongly of loamy earth. They'd Apparated to a secret destination and Draco had steadfastly refused to reveal where they were. "I'll tell you later," he'd murmured. "But you'll have to kiss it out of me, first."

He'd given her a bawdy look.

"Besides, from the way you're wheezing, you could use the exercise." Draco laughed as she gave him a playful push. "I have a Wheezing Weasley on my hands. Perhaps you need a Personal Trainer. I've been reading about Muggle culture and everyone who is _anyone_ has a Personal Trainer . . . "

Ginny interrupted him. "And just who is supplying you with Muggle information?"

"Uncle Severus."

Ginny snorted. "The blind leading the blind," she remarked. "You'd have probably done better with Hermione."

"Yes, well . . . you're probably right, at that. We went to a Muggle bookstore in London and Severus picked out all sorts of boring things for me to read. I mean really . . . 'The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire'? If the Romans had been so bloody great, why did their empire fall in the _first_ place? I thought it was dreadfully impractical so I tried to purchase a delightful little glossy . . . something called, 'Playboy Magazine'. I had to go digging for it, though . . . it was surprisingly well hidden. At any rate, Severus shoved it out of my hands faster than a shagging bunny rabbit. I told him I wanted it for the articles, but he insisted I leave it behind. Pity . . . the pictures were very educational."

Ginny stopped short. "What kind of pictures?"

"Erm . . . never you mind."

She gave him a suspicious look but left it alone.

They walked up another slight hill and as they crested its smooth peak, Draco suddenly pulled her around, facing away from the path.

"We're almost there. Now close your eyes!"

Ginny closed one eye, but kept the other one resolutely open.

Draco pretended to look hurt. "Come now! Don't you trust me? You really don't take direction very well, Weasley. I promise you . . . no pranks. You're going to love this."

She closed her eyes as he waved his hand in front of her face. He slowly turned her around, so that she was once again facing the path. Taking her hand, he gingerly led her to the bottom of the hill. She could hear what sounded like rushing water.

"Alright now . . . open them."

Ginny gasped in complete wonder. She had never seen such a spectacular waterfall in her life.

They'd come to a clearing at the bottom of a great cliff and while the trees at the top of the crag radiated a bright, green sunlight, it faded as the droplets sprayed down in a showering cascade. Ginny could see rainbow colours coming off the fine mists but where the waterfall landed in a large pool, it was rather dark.

She shivered. The darkness gave it a mysterious, almost dangerous look.

Draco peered eagerly at her face, as if he couldn't wait to see her reaction.

"Isn't it splendid, Sweetness? And there's a path that leads to the top of the cliff. I've another surprise waiting for you there."

He was practically hopping up and down with glee.

She felt a deep sense of delight creeping over her . . . this was classic Draco. His playful spirit was infectious and she fervently hoped on Nimue's Naughty Bits that this earnestness carried over to his lovemaking skills.

The thought of it prompted her to emit a low, rather un-Ginnylike growl.

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "It's only a waterfall, Gin. And that sounded remarkably kinky, by the way. A very promising start, indeed."

Ginny felt a hot pinkness advancing on her cheeks. Drat! She was going to have to learn to control her facial hues . . . he took great pleasure in making her blush, and he was currently taking it as a challenge of sorts.

Draco gave her an intense, penetrating look. "This promises to be a night we'll never forget. We'll be sleeping under the stars," he whispered enticingly. He darted his eyes nervously before adding, "Don't tell your mum, though."

Hmmm. That sounded like he had plans of his own. Was he going to seduce her?

Ginny sincerely hoped so.

Because if he didn't make his move soon, she would just have to make it for him.

"This is it," she thought with certainty. "_Tonight we will finally become lovers_.

She'd been afraid for months to tell him that she loved him, perhaps because such a declaration had completely ruined her relationship with Harry Potter. She was determined not to make the same mistake again.

Ginny knew that he cared for her deeply and that was enough for her. Besides . . . she was tired of him being such a gentleman.

It didn't suit him at all.

Giving him a luminous smile, she allowed him to lead her up a small path to the top of the cliff.

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As it turned out, Narcissa found that lunch had only been a temporary diversion from her distress. She'd done some more shopping once the long lunch with Emile had been over and then she'd stopped by the Parkinson's for dinner. By the time she'd Apparated home, the sun was setting over the western horizon. While thoughts of Draco had plagued her earlier, she found that her chance meeting with Sirius Black had stimulated feelings that she hadn't had in years.

She just couldn't stop thinking about him.

As she swept through the entrance of Malfoy Manor, Narcissa could feel the throbbing of a migraine coming on. Sirius would have been extremely surprised to learn that he had caused her such tremendous emotional stress, and her lunch with Emile Zabini had not helped.

It was dangerous bringing Emile into the fray. He was self-serving at heart and wouldn't hesitate to doublecross her if it gave him an advantage. Narcissa knew that she had to be very careful in her dealings with him. If Draco found out she was conspiring with Zabini, she could lose her son forever.

A house-elf stood by impassively, as she wrenched off her cloak and handed it to the small creature. She barely registered his tiny presence.

Clutching her shopping bags, she slowly climbed the massive staircase, making her way to the bedroom that she'd occupied since ending her sexual relationship with Lucius eight years previously. This had occurred right after Sirius had fallen into the Veil of Shadows. By the time she'd resorted to such a drastic measure, her husband had merely shrugged his shoulders, saying she was getting too old to pleasure him anyway. "I have plenty of willing lovers, both male and female," he'd sneered at her. "I won't even miss you."

It had been an immense relief.

She dropped her bags on the bed and walked to the window seat, gazing at the darkening heavens. Her eyes sought the familiar twinkling diamond until she found it and she smiled to herself.

As always, Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky.

She sat there for a long time, staring at the star, until the room became very dark. Muttering the Lumos spell, she debated whether or not to take a Sleeping Draught or to just allow herself to become bored sleepy.

But seeing Sirius that afternoon had made her unaccountably nostalgic, so she sought her collection of Pensieves instead.

After her marriage to Lucius went bad, she'd taken to collecting her memories in a series of Pensieves, hiding them from sight as if they were precious jewels. Immersed in her husband's cruelty, she had placed her memories in the bowls, in an effort to savor and protect them. Sometimes, when she was particularly lonely, she would secretly take them out and relive her fondest recollections: Her first Yule Ball, her sixteenth birthday party, Draco's birth, his first little steps . . .

She suddenly wanted to relive her memories . . . she wanted to see what she'd abandoned all those years ago when she'd left her family and everything she loved to marry Lucius Malfoy. Walking over to her closet, she murmured a spell and tapped her wand on a wall behind her clothing, allowing a recessed shelf to appear. Several rows of Pensieves were laid out side by side, spanning the length of her closet. The white liquid smoke created fine little swirls around each bowl.

She pulled out a particularly ornate one. It was made of dark blue marble and had a distinctive pattern of stars carved around its rim. She smiled dreamily at the beautiful artistry and brushed it off lovingly

This was the very Pensieve she wanted to see.

She hadn't accessed these memories since the night that Sirius had been taken to Azkeban, a few months after Draco had been born. That night, overcome with grief, she'd poured many childhood memories into the bowl, reliving her past with Sirius Black.

She took the Pensieve over to the window seat, and carefully put it in front of her as she sat down. Dipping her hand in the bowl, she found herself at the outskirts of her family home, and was delighted to see the old apple tree on the south side of the lawn. This had been one of her favorite hiding places as a child. In this memory, it was well into the evening and she and Sirius had sneaked out of her house to play on the grounds of the estate.

She watched as her younger self and a messy-haired Sirius Black approached the tree, breathless and laughing. As she watched the figures coming towards her, she suddenly remembered the circumstances of this memory. Her parents had been having a dinner party and she and Sirius had slipped out unnoticed. She looked at him closely and couldn't help smiling with sad affection.

He'd been a beautiful boy, although she'd been too young to notice it then. She took in his shocking black hair and eyes the colour of the sky at dusk. She longed to reach out and run her fingers through his thick tresses.

They couldn't have been more than ten at the time of this memory.

Her long blond hair was pulled back and her mother had magically created ringlet curls that framed her small face. Narcissa had hated the curls because they made her look "girly", but her mother had insisted she wear her hair like this. The young Narcissa happily pulled out her ribbons and threw them to the ground.

"Can you believe how boring grown-ups are?" said Sirius arrogantly, as they approached the tree. "What a bunch of stupid prats! They won't even spot that we're gone for another two hours, at least."

Little Narcissa nodded eagerly in agreement. "And they talk about the silliest stuff," she sniffed. "All the ladies there kept telling Mum how beautiful I am and how I'm going to be able to marry any man I want. I don't want to get married!" she wailed. "I want to live in a tree house and mum said no man would ever let me live in a tree house. So . . . that settles it. I'm never getting married." She tossed her head vehemently.

Sirius laughed mockingly at this. "Girls don't have a choice about getting married, Cissy. Don't you know anything?" His laughter had made her very angry and she pushed him hard, causing him to trip over the root of the apple tree. He sat sprawled on the ground.

"What do you know, you vile git!" she shouted at him. "Boys think they know everything! If Mum and Dad make me get married, I'll just run away. Then you'll be sorry 'cause I'll run away and never come back!"

This immediately sobered Sirius. "I'm sorry, Cissy. Don't be mad at me. Don't run away," he pleaded. He looked like he was going to cry, which moved the tiny girl's little heart. She sat down next to him.

"Would you be sad? If I left and never came back?" she asked. She already knew the answer, but for some reason, she needed to hear him say it.

"I'd be dead sad," answered Sirius. "You're my bestest friend."

Narcissa gazed at him in approval, giving him a small smile. They settled into a companionable silence.

"The stars are really pretty tonight," remarked Narcissa. "I wish we could fly up there to see them. Daddy takes me up on his broom, but he says that we can't fly close to the stars. They're too far away."

Sirius nodded in understanding.

"I found a Muggle newspaper once, when we were visiting London. I hid it from my mum 'cause she hates Muggles," remarked Sirius. "The paper said that some Muggles had flown to the moon a couple of years ago in a big aeroplane thingy. Can you believe that? If they're not as good as us, how come they figured out how to fly to the moon and we haven't?"

Narcissa had no answer for this. "I dunno, Sirius," she said finally. "Grown-ups are wrong about a lot of stuff." She was suddenly apprehensive. "I overheard Mum talking to my Dad and she said I was getting too old to be playing in the mud with you. She said that you were a bad 'fluence on me, whatever that means. What if they don't let you come over and play anymore?"

Sirius gave her a devoted look. "They can't stop us from being friends, Cissy." He lay on the ground and motioned her to lie next to him. They gazed at the stars for a while and Sirius pointed to the southeast sky.

"That's Jupiter," he told her. "Gran says it's the biggest planet in our solar system." He moved his finger down and to the left, pointing to a bright star. "And that's Sirius. It's the biggest most brightest star in the sky," he said boastfully.

Narcissa regarded the star as it twinkled and shined in the dark blanket of the sky. It seemed to change colours, the longer she stared at it.

"If your parents ever say we can't be friends anymore and you get lonely, you can always come outside to see the Sirius Star. I'll bet if you talked to it, I could hear you," he whispered.

"That way, you'll never be alone," he added.

Even now, Narcissa felt it was the loveliest thing anybody ever said to her.

She gazed at the two little figures, lying side by side, looking at the star. With a sigh, she withdrew her hand from the Pensieve, finding herself in the darkness of her lonely bedroom.

Returning to the window, she stared at the Sirius Star until her tears blurred its image.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I'm sorry that we lost our friendship," she whispered.

Despite what he told her years ago, she had no faith that he could hear her apology.

To be continued . . .

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A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews. I read each and every one and they mean a lot to me . . . it's what keeps me working hard on this story.

And my beta, Elizabeth, is an invaluable critic and Dictionary-Extraordinaire. She keeps me from sounding stupid. Thank you, girlfriend.


	4. Chapter 3: Love

Author's Note: This is my longest chapter so far and it is rated R for language and sexual situations. This chapter in particular applies so if you're not of age, you shouldn't be reading this.

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Under the harvest moon  
When the soft silver  
Drips shimmering  
Over garden nights,  
Death, the gray mocker  
Comes and whispers to you  
As a beautiful friend  
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses  
When the flagrant crimson  
Lurks in the dusk  
Of the wild red leaves,  
Love, with the little hands  
Comes and touches you  
With a thousand memories,  
And asks you  
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

From the poem, "Under the Harvest Moon" by Carl Sandburg

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Chapter 3: Love

He liked the stillness.

"Life is too bloody busy," he thought, as he held himself completely motionless.

In years past, under the scornful, yet watchful eye of Lucius, he'd known no place to hide from his father's relentless expectations. Even now, in unguarded moments, he could still hear that contemptuous drawl running interference in his head and giving him nowhere to escape. As a child, he'd taught himself to play a solitary game . . . a game where, if he held himself completely still, no one saw that he even existed.

And for a brief flash of time, he would be at peace.

Draco let out a quiet huff and rolled on his back, the setting sunlight splashing across his sharp features. He remembered those rare, blissful moments of his lonely childhood when, embroiled in whatever activity was taking his fancy, he would suddenly stop as if struck by Merlin himself.

He would become as still as the rocks in Malfoy Gardens and his consciousness would simply disappear. No more hate or anger . . . no more yearnings, no shame, nor petty jealousies.

And no more feeling like he wasn't _good_ enough.

As an adult, the only other times that he'd ever felt that peaceful was when he was in Ginny Weasley's embrace and the impact of that revelation was just starting to hit home

It was, quite frankly, scaring the living shit out of him.

Ginny shook him out of his contemplation, before he could take his thoughts further. They were seated on a bluff near a narrow rushing brook and the water raced by, tumbling over the cliff to create the waterfall he'd previously shown her. His second surprise of the evening had been a resplendent picnic feast, laid out on a soft cashmere blanket. Ginny had been delighted and had kissed him senseless before diving into the rosemary lamb.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

He turned to her and was galvanized at seeing her smiling so lovingly at him. He wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to it.

"Erm . . . well . . ." he stumbled for words.

"I didn't think so," said Ginny, her voice imbued with satisfaction. "I knew that I'd made absolutely no impression."

He grinned apologetically.

"To be fair, I believe I was only about five or six at the time, but I don't remember exactly," he said. "I do know that Lucius complained about you lot for the better part of my childhood . . . and then some.

Ginny gave him an astute look. "I remember it very clearly," she said firmly. " I thought you were a pointy-faced brat. We were in Diagon Alley and you were holding your mum's hand. When I accidentally touched you as I walked by, you recoiled as if I was a piece of ghoul dung." It sounded like she was trying to keep her voice casual, but Draco wasn't fooled.

He was surprised that she seemed so . . . hurt by it, after all these years. He sat up and brought his hand to her cheek, brushing her face with a gentle touch.

"Ginny . . . why bring that up now?" he asked quietly. " Remember, I was taught that _all_ things Weasley were beneath me, it was ingrained in my childhood. Of course, right now I only wish that _one_ thing Weasley was beneath me, but she's too busy feeding her face," he added in a saucy tone.

He was watching her closely now.

"You Weasleys eat with disturbing gusto," he observed. Old habits were such that he gave her a half-disdainful look, but his heart really wasn't in it. For a moment she reminded him of her brother, sitting at the Gryffindor table, happily shoveling cauldron cakes into his gob. Draco mentally shook himself at the thought before being distracted once again by Ginny's eating habits.

He leaned in to kiss her on the bridge of her nose.

"Besides, I'm not recoiling now," he murmured. " In fact, I'm rather _coiling_ at the sight of you licking that carrot. It's very arousing." He let out an exaggerated growl.

She ran her tongue sensuously over the carrot before giving it a savage bite. He shuddered.

"Sadistic witch," he mumbled as she pecked him on the cheek.

The sun was beginning to set and Draco gazed wistfully at the ocean, the whitecaps scattered out in imitation of the food spread before them. The air was starting to cool somewhat and it was very beautiful . . . in a rather tranquil sort of way. He was mesmerized for a few moments, before Ginny asked the inevitable.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Draco gave her an impertinent look.

"Why do girls always ask that? What if I was thinking about something horrible like Dumbledore and McGonagall doing it doggie style? Would you really want to know that?" He shook his head violently. "Gah, what a beastly thought. I'll just think of them as being completely celibate so that I can sleep at night."

"I'm serious, Draco. You had a rather blank look on your face . . . one I know very well from school. I used to wonder what was going on behind your vapid mask. I rather fancied that the more tormented you were, the more bland your facial expressions would become. I was right, wasn't I?"

"Thought about me a lot, did you?" He took note of her expression.

"Ah ha! I knew it."

Ginny harrumphed. "You're not answering my question," she pointed out.

He gave her that familiar closed look, before catching himself and relenting.

"Alright, if you must know, I was thinking that being the Prince of Avalon is not all it's cracked up to be," he confessed unexpectedly.

Ginny was startled. Of all the things for him to be thinking, that certainly was not one that had occurred to her. "And just what is being the Prince of Avalon cracked up to be, if may I ask?"

"Oh well . . . the usual stuff . . . you know, supreme power, total control, untold riches, women fawning all over you, the adulation of the masses. Did I mention supreme power?"

"I can see why you're so disturbed," she said dryly.

"Ah . . . but there's always a price to be paid for everything," he explained. "In this case the price is a total lack of freedom, unbelievable responsibility, boring State dinners, dealing with jealous enemies, stupid political intrigue, an intrusive press and keeping secrets . . . in my case, lots and lots of secrets."

Ginny sat up abruptly. "What kind of secrets?"

"I'm not telling . . . that's why they call them secrets, you silly girl." Draco gave her an incredulous look that clearly betrayed that he couldn't believe she was that naive.

"She obviously needs an explanation," he thought.

"Think about it, just what is a secret?" he asked, before answering his own question. "It's something that others don't know. And that, which you don't know, makes you weak, Ginny. I want all my enemies to remain weak. Hence, the secrecy."

"That's just the Slytherin in you talking."

Draco shook his head. "No, it's actually a Muggle concept. It's another way of saying, "Knowledge is Power," which is something that a Muggle fellow once said . . . and for the life of me I can't keep some of those Muggle sayings straight. I do know a few, though: In for a penny, is good for the gander . . . A bird in the hand is worth two on your feet . . . a stitch in time does something or other' . . ." He knitted his brow in concentration.

"Draco, focus here for a minute."

He gave her a distracted look. "Hmmm?"

"You don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Be the Prince of Avalon."

Draco snorted. "Yeah right. Just like you don't have to be an annoying little Weaslette."

Ginny's face immediately flushed. "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" She sounded aghast that he would say such a thing.

"Well, really . . . we can't help who we are. And what do you know about being rich and powerful? Your family . . ." He squirmed uncomfortably.

"Is what? Poor and ignorant and from the wrong side of town?"

"Erm . . . well yes. I mean, sort of. It's not that you're all completely ignorant. You just can't help it," he said condescendingly.

The insult hung in the air, yet Draco was oblivious to it. He was so oblivious that he was actually surprised when she got mad.

Really mad.

She stood up abruptly, hands on her hips as she looked down at him. Her voice dripped with quiet rage. "I've said this before and I imagine I'll say it again. Fuck off, Ferret Boy!"

"Ginny, you're overreacting. I didn't mean anything by it."

"No, I think you meant every word of it. I think that you believe that just because you have 'royal blood' you're better than everyone else is. Well, I have news for you. You're just the same ill-mannered prat that you always were. You may have money, but you're distinctly lacking in class," she said scornfully, her voice was beginning to rise. "And you weren't the only one to defeat Voldemort, Mr. Hero. You had plenty of help in that department, so don't think I'm impressed where you're concerned. If anyone is ignorant, it's you and I'm beginning to wonder why I bother."

She turned away from him, angrily wiping tears from her eyes. She refused to look at him.

"_Oh for bloody sakes_," he thought frantically. _"I'm mucking everything up. If I'm not careful, I'm going to lose her._

He stood up and reached for her arm, twirling her around so that she was pushed up against his body. She tried to fight him off but he clamped onto her tightly.

"Oh no . . . you're very wrong, Ginny," he said vehemently. His eyes gazed at her searchingly before he continued. "I couldn't possibly love a girl that I think isn't good enough for me. And I do love you, you idiot. If that makes me ignorant, then so be it."

Ginny stared at him in astonishment, looking as if she thought she hadn't heard him correctly. "Did you just tell me you love me?"

He nodded. "Right before I called you an idiot," he said helpfully.

"I . . erm . . ."

She was briefly at a loss for words. "OH!" she finally exclaimed, stamping her foot. "You make me so mad, Draco Malfoy!"

"Telling you I love you makes you mad? Honestly! I'll never understand women."

"Yes! I mean no! Oh for the love of . . . !" Her tears were falling in earnest now. "Telling me you love me in the middle of an argument makes me mad, you git. This isn't how I pictured it."

He pulled her down with him so they were kneeling, facing each other. He continued to hold her closely, brushing her tears away with light touches of his fingertips. His face was very close to hers.

"Picture this then," he said softly. "I love you, Ginny Weasley. And I'm truly sorry for what I said . . . I didn't mean to hurt you. If anything, I'm the one who isn't good enough for you, that's painfully obvious. I've loved you since that second Sunday after the Final Battle and we were eating dinner at the Burrow. Fred called you an insulting name and later, as he walked by your chair, you stuck your foot out so that he tripped and fell flat on his face. I was instantly smitten, not to mention, greatly amused."

"You fell in love with me because I tripped my stupid sod of a brother?"

"No . . . I fell in love with you because you have spirit and fire. You never back down from a fight and you're stronger than Hercules. I love you because your skin is soft and your kisses are intoxicating. When you look at me, your eyes light up and I'm amazed that I can put that incredible expression on your face. And I don't ever want you to look at me the way you did a moment ago."

His face softened. "Simply put, you are the most beautiful girl I've ever known. That's why I love you."

He ended his pretty speech by reaching down and brushing his lips against hers and he knew in an instant that he'd dispelled most of her anger and hurt. Oh, it was true that he was an insensitive prat, but she'd cure him of it, he was very sure on that score. As she wrapped her arms around him and pressed closer, he could feel the familiar tingling in his body as every nerve ending was sensitized to her very touch. She kissed him with enthusiasm, her tongue parting his soft lips and they moved against each with the surety of passion.

Draco let out a quiet moan as he pressed his pelvis against hers and his body betrayed the pleasure that was yet to come.

After all, the night was only beginning.

She broke away suddenly, leaning her temple against his cheek as her breath came in short gasps. When her breathing calmed, she finally spoke.

"Oh!" she sighed. "I love you too, Lord Dicksplat. Very much."

Draco smiled in smug satisfaction as he reached in to claim her lips again.

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"Severus, could you please stop pacing? You're making me a nervous wreck."

Snape paused to look at his wife as she sat placidly on the couch, a pair of knitting needles clicking away in the air in front of her. Hermione was quite skilled at multi-tasking and she was currently knitting, reading a Healer's journal and eating a bowl of ice cream at the same time.

"You're going to be the size of an Erumpet, before this pregnancy's over," he commented.

She gave him a scathing look.

"Thanks for the support, you irritating git. Besides, I'm having cravings . . . not that you'd know anything about that. And the baby loves ice cream . . . I don't know how I know that, but I do."

He smiled at her indulgently.

"I was only teasing, love. You look beautiful."

She contemplated him, standing so ramrod straight in the middle of their living room. Despite his playful tone, a nervous energy seemed to crackle around him. Something was obviously really bothering him.

"So what's got you so tied up in knots?" she asked curiously.

"Need you ask? It's that annoying, irresponsible, impossible boy."

"You're either talking about Harry or Draco and given that we haven't seen Harry since the wedding, my money is on Draco. What has he done now?"

Severus began his compulsive pacing again. "Again I can't believe you even have to ask. His actions with the press were completely inappropriate; not to mention ill advised. It's clear that molding him into a proper monarch is going to be an uphill battle and I don't know if I have the energy for this. I had to issue an apology to the press and I am quite certain that he would have insisted on saying something insolent. I could clearly hear his excuse in my head, so I just wrote the damned thing and owled The Daily Prophet."

"Perhaps I should just let him deal with his own fall-out, from now on," he added with a sneer.

"Come here," Hermione commanded as she set aside her bowl and patted the couch next to her.

He sat down heavily and she snuggled close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He ran his hand through her thick hair and she could feel him struggling to relax.

"Severus, you must know by now that you can't control Draco Malfoy. That's like trying to control the weather." She tried hard not to laugh.

"It's not funny, dear wife . . . I'm quite sure that I could control the weather, however Malfoy is another story. I just can't get him to see the seriousness of his situation. This isn't a game, you know. He's got the destiny of the wizarding world in the palm of his hand, yet he seems insistent upon wanking it away."

Hermione erupted in a bark of laughter.

"Interesting choice of words, but I can certainly see your point. Maybe you ought to let him make his own mistakes, Severus. He is a quick learner, you've said so yourself. He'll figure things out soon enough."

"He'd better, Hermione. Becoming the first Prince of Avalon in three hundred years is a serious business. I've underestimated him before and he turned out to be smarter, braver and more cunning than I could ever have imagined. He quite literally saved us. It's true that he had a lot of help, but in the end, it was all up to him and he came through. If he can just apply that single-mindedness to ruling this country, he'll be the best king Britain has ever seen. "

She leaned back and looked at him soberly. "You're proud of him, aren't you?"

"If you ever tell him I said this, I'll deny it, but I love him like my own son. And I'm very worried about him. I don't know if he's fully aware of the dangers that he faces. He's going to have to work hard to gain the trust of the people and there will be many who want to see him fail. If he fails, it could cost him everything. I'm starting to think that the best thing I could do would be to talk him out of this."

Hermione's arms tightened around him. "Draco's very lucky to have you, Severus, and so am I. But you're making a mistake by treating him like a child . . . it's a very bad habit of yours, by the way," she said accusingly. "Sometimes you do it to me."

He leaned in to rub his formidable nose in her hair. "You're quite mistaken, my love. I could never think of you as a child. I'm not _that_ perverse."

"You're perverse enough, but don't ever change that."

"Not on your life," he answered, as he kissed her affectionately. The settled in together, a contented silence between them before he finally stirred.

"I must tend to the fire," he said quietly, but his expression betrayed that he was still thinking about his nephew.

"He'll do fine, Severus, you'll see," Hermione soothed. "With your guidance, taking only his best interests at heart, he can't help but be a success, whatever life path he chooses."

He sighed. "You're probably right." But he couldn't help feeling uneasy where Draco Malfoy was concerned.

Just when the hell did he become such a worrywart?

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KAAAAABOOOOOM!

Ginny waved the smoke away from her face as Draco whooped in triumph.

"That's the second game in a row you've lost! You know the rules, Weasley . . . you must remove an article of clothing!" He reached up under her skirt in an apparent attempt to pull off her knickers. She slapped his hand away.

He'd already removed her blouse and she was clad only in her ivory lace bra and her skirt. Oh, and she still had her knickers, but he'd been trying to get those off for the last five games.

"I don't know why I agreed to play Strip Exploding Snap with you, you're an insufferable cheater!" she whined at him.

"Oh quit pouting and let me collect my reward. And I'm not cheating! I'm winning."

"That's an interesting observation coming from a wizard who is wearing nothing but his boxers." He arched an arrogant eyebrow.

"Well, if we end up naked, I'd say we both win in the end."

Ginny most heartily agreed.

They were seated cross-legged on a bed, a deck of shredded cards scattered between them. The night sky was clear and the moon sent sharp beams of light through the trees above them, accentuating the otherworldly feel of their location.

After his declaration of love, he'd murmured to her that he had another surprise for her, if she could take it. Still pie-eyed, she'd allowed him to lead her down the path to the base of the waterfall, where, to her immense surprise, a large, beautiful brass bed had been magically placed next to the large pool of water. Two little faeries were circling overhead and as they observed their arrival, each grasped a corner of the green velvet blanket to gracefully turn it down. There were red rose petals on the bed.

Ginny began to sputter. It was so . . . so . . .

Sappy. Pretty soon, she let out a loud guffaw.

Behind her, Draco was frantically gesturing to the faeries, using a slashing motion across his throat, trying to get them to stop. This was obviously not the reaction he had been hoping for. They got the message and flew off, but not before one of the enchanting creatures darted over to him as he extended his cheek so she could kiss it. She gave him a noisy peck, then paused to shake a disapproving finger at Ginny before flitting off to join her companion.

Ginny noticed the injured look on Draco's face and immediately regretted her reaction.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Draco! This is truly wonderful! You must be the most romantic wizard on Earth. I just wasn't expecting you to be so . . . "

"Imaginative? Thoughtful? Sensitive?"

She sighed. "I'm a bitch," she said with resignation. "I don't know why I reacted like that . . . I think I'm nervous. I've been dreaming of this night for months, after all. Please forgive me?"

He paused as if he was considering letting her stew. She gave him her best crestfallen look, which seemed to do the trick.

"Of course I forgive you," he finally said, magnanimously. "But it's going to cost you. I haven't figured out what, but I'll think of something. In the meantime, since you've been dreaming of this, what would you suggest? Shall we tear each other's clothing off? Or should we take our time and peel them off slowly? You decide."

"I'd rather you decide. You have more experience in this arena, I'm sure," she said. "Not that I'm complaining . . . in fact, I'm counting on your skill."

That's when he came up with the idea of Strip Exploding Snap. She'd been reluctant at first, but now she had to admit that it had been just the thing to break the ice.

She looked him over, admiring his slender form glowing in the May moonlight. He truly was the most magnificent looking wizard she'd ever seen. He seemed completely comfortable in his half-nakedness, as if he knew that he presented quite a tasty picture. His muscles were lean and his skin looked infinitely smooth in the shimmer of the light.

She was just itching to touch him.

Noticing her frank appraisal, he leaned back against the pillows at the headboard and stretched seductively.

That's when Ginny dove for him.

"Enough," she murmured against his ear. "Enough Exploding Foreplay. I love you and tonight I intend to show you just how much."

He purred in delight. "Now you're talking. Finally." He waved his wand and cleared the bed of the cards before tucking it in under the pillow.

"Now, where were we?" he asked huskily.

In answer, she ran her fingers lightly over his chest, pinching at his nipples as he arched his head back, his fine hair spread over the pillow. Ginny could hear his breath hitch and he let out a soft whimper as his hands tentatively brushed across the small of her back and down to the round curve of her hip. She continued to run her hands over the tightly corded muscles of his abdomen, and then reached up to plant firm kisses on his neck and jaw. Draco impatiently turned his head, hitting her with a bruising kiss and she happily opened her mouth to him. He pulled against her tightly and she could feel every hard ridge of his body.

He felt so good she thought she was going to faint.

With a growl, he rolled her over so that he was lying on top of her. Their hands were flying as their tongues worked feverishly against each other, prompting desperate moans from Ginny. He bit her gently on her lower lip before withdrawing reluctantly.

"You're annoyingly overdressed," he muttered, as he sat up and grabbed the string of her wrap-around skirt. "Nice choice of outfits, it's like opening a Christmas present." He pulled the string and unwrapped her quickly, revealing long tapered legs.

"This is better than a Christmas present," he breathed.

Looking at her hungrily, he reached to touch her breasts before he suddenly stopped. "This bra won't bite me, will it?" he asked, remembering the twins' favorite Scanty Charm.

"I'm keeping my underwear under lock and key," she answered, as she leaned up to swipe an impertinent tongue down the base of his throat. "You are officially the only man who gets to touch them."

Draco sighed with relief, before turning his attention to the soft unblemished skin around her belly button. He ran his lips up the center of her body, to the valley between her breasts.

"Your skin turns pink where I kiss it," he murmured, sounding intoxicated. "It's like magic." He removed her bra and seemed delighted to feel her shifting his boxers down his hips. Later, she couldn't remember how he got her panties off, but it didn't matter as they were finally and fully naked.

He leaned back and lifted her right leg, kissing and licking his way up. She could see him gauging her reaction as she let out quiet little moans. He reached up and ran his hands up and down her torso, flicking his fingers over her breasts before lowering his hands even further.

"Gods, I love you so much," he groaned.

"Please," she begged. "I don't think I can take this anymore."

In answer, he swooped over her with his hips poised at the ready. "I've never felt this way about anyone before," he breathed. "I think I've been waiting for you forever." He slowly settled himself within her body and Ginny let out a sharp cry.

She closed her eyes and knew that she'd only previously had an inkling of what intense pleasure felt like.

There was nothing to compare to this.

He kissed her eyelids and her cheeks and her nose before capturing her lips and beginning to move. She clutched at him frantically, breaking their kiss to call to him as her body matched his insistent rhythm. Her consciousness was centered on their place of joining, so everything sounded distant to her ears . . . the rush of the waterfall, the songs of crickets. Electric shivers ran through her and they were bucking and clutching and the forest echoed with their cries of pleasure. When she finally reached her peak, she could feel him shuddering above her and it was as if he was pouring his very soul into hers.

She screamed her delight and he answered her back. Repeatedly.

Ginny wasn't sure how long they laid there, but her next memory was of his full weight on top of her, where she could feel his heart pounding against hers as he held her closely.

"That was definitely worth the wait," she said breathlessly.

He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes shining in amusement. "You play your cards right and you won't have to wait again much longer."

"No! No more cards!" she exclaimed. "Besides, I'll never be able to play a game of Exploding Snap without getting horny and it's all your fault!"

Draco laughed heartily as he fully lifted himself and rocked back on his knees. Her eyes ran down his body and she noticed that he was pointing insistently at her once again. She raised an eyebrow_. " This is a good sign," _thought Ginny. "_A very good sign. I'm going to have to learn to keep up with him."_ Despite what had just transpired, she blushed.

"Take a good look, Weasley," he said arrogantly. "This is all yours from now on."

At the moment he bent his body down for another kiss, a bright red light flashed where his head had previously been. It was apparently coming from behind one of the trees and in quick succession, two other flashes of magic shot toward the same spot.

If Draco hadn't just moved, he'd have been hit in the head with the unknown spell.

"Holy Fuck!" he yelled, diving for his wand under the pillow. "We're under attack!"

Ginny had never seen anything happen so fast in her life. Before she could take in another breath, Draco grabbed her and they Apparated off the bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They landed heavily on the floor, Draco's arms and legs tangled around hers. Instinctively, she pulled herself up, wildly checking their surroundings. Draco was looking around too, but she could see that he was not surprised at where they'd landed.

He'd targeted it after all.

She noticed the large, familiar fireplace and let out a startled, "Oh shit," before rolling off of him, and pulling her legs up to her chest. Losing her balance, she fell backwards again, then struggled to stand up.

She could hear two loud simultaneous gasps behind them.

By this time, Draco was already on his feet, pulling at her until she stood next to him. Whirling, she turned around to find the source of those gasps.

Severus and Hermione Snape were seated on their couch, both absolutely round-eyed with surprise. In fact, they looked like a pair of twin post owls. Ginny quickly tried to cover herself, but found to her dismay that she didn't have enough hands.

Draco, on the other hand, just stood there proudly, hands on his hips.

In an instant, the Potions Master found his voice.

"Merlin strike me dead!" he roared. "And cover yourselves before I go blind! This isn't the Garden of Eden!"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "This ought to be good," she murmured.

To be continued . . .

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Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and of course, thanks to my beta, Elizabeth. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	5. Chapter 4: Army

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, doesn't belong to me, blah blah, don't sue me, blah blah blah, no money, blah blah, rated R.

************************************

I'm gonna fight 'em off  
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back  
They're gonna rip it off  
Taking their time right behind my back  
And I'm talking to myself at night  
Because I can't forget  
Back and forth through my mind  
Behind a cigarette  
And the message coming from my eyes  
Says leave it alone

~ From the song, "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes

*****************************************

Chapter 4: Army

"Severus, no . . . you can't be seriously thinking of doing this. It's far too dangerous." Hermione folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair, a mutinous expression on her face.

She noticed that her husband had calmed down somewhat, but there was still a high colour to his cheekbones. If Hermione hadn't been so frightened for him, she would have been grinning. 

After all, it wasn't every day that a witch and wizard Apparated naked in the middle of your living room. She was quite certain that she'd never hear the end of it.

"I have no choice, Hermione," answered Severus, breaking her train of thought. "At this point, we don't know whom we can trust and I must find out what kind of magic was aimed against the future monarch. It's the first step in figuring out who did this." 

"Maybe it was just a jealous boyfriend," Draco said hopefully. "I get that all the time." Ginny looked at him archly and he shrugged without apology. "Well, I do."

Severus curled his lip at Draco. "Having just seen you naked, that astounds me," he said acidly. Draco gave him an outraged look. "And you're a fool if you think it's a jealous boyfriend," the Potions Master continued. "Every instinct tells me this is about the monarchy, and not some personal grudge. The timing isn't a coincidence. Somebody wanted to strike before you are crowned." 

His grim expression punctuated his words.

Presently, the latter day Adam and Eve were seated on the sofa, their hands curled around tumblers of whiskey, which Severus had grudgingly poured for them. Draco noticed Ginny's hands were shaking and snaked a comforting arm around her shoulders to pull her close.

After their dramatic entrance, Hermione had had the presence of mind to quickly reach over for her wand, but not before giving Draco's nude form a rather indiscreet once over as she quickly conjured a loose set of robes for the two of them. Despite his surprise at the Apparating couple, Severus had raised an inquiring eyebrow at her as she'd blushed. 

"I'll grill you about that later," his eyes had said. 

Once he got over his initial shock, Severus had stayed silent long enough for Draco to explain what had happened that evening. By the time his nephew had finished his story, the Potions Master's countenance had turned rather murderous before he quietly told them of his immediate plan for dealing with the situation.

And for once, Hermione felt extreme consternation that he was such a Man of Action. 

She interrupted with her opinion once again. "Severus, be reasonable. You can't go there alone."

"We don't have time to bring anybody else in," he snapped impatiently. "You know as well as I do that time is wasting and if we wait too long, all traces of magic around the waterfall will be gone. I must go now, while the magic lingers and can be analyzed. We must know what we're dealing with here."

"I'll go with you," said Draco firmly.

"No!" barked Snape. "It's too risky! You must stay out of sight until we know what we're facing. Somebody was clever enough to find you, even though you say you told nobody of your plans. We're obviously not dealing with an ordinary assassin here. Besides, he'll be expecting the place to be crawling with Aurors soon. Whoever did this is long gone by now."

"Who said it was a man?" Ginny asked in a quiet voice.

All heads turned to her as she sat up straight under their appraisal. "I mean, isn't a woman just as capable of doing this as a man?" she asked.

"Indeed," murmured Severus. "It could be anyone." 

Hermione gave her husband a pleading look. "At the very least, take an Ocularis Nox potion before you go. It's dark out there and you need to be able to see, in case the would-be assassin is still in the area." 

Severus nodded at her. "I still have some in my stores, left over from the war. I believe the batch is still good. That potion goes bad after six months, you know."

"I know," said Hermione, without missing a beat. Severus allowed himself a slight smile. It was an exchange of words that was comforting in its familiarity. 

He took a deep breath. "So it's settled then. I must depart at once." 

"Don't forget to retrieve my wand," reminded Ginny. "I didn't have time to grab it. Hopefully, it's still on the bed." Her cheeks turned pink as she said this.

Severus nodded briefly to Draco and Ginny before taking his leave. Hermione sighed and stood up. 

"I'll have a room prepared for you both. Seeing as how you popped in here starkers, I take it that one room will suffice?" Ginny blushed with an even deeper shade of pink and Hermione let out her first grin of the evening.

"You didn't have perfect scores on your N.E.W.T's for nothing, you clever girl, although I hated you for it at the time," remarked Draco cheerfully. "One room will be just fine."

Hermione gave Ginny a hug and pecked Draco on the cheek. "I'm going to help Severus prepare for his trip," she said. "I might as well be useful as I know I won't be able to sleep a wink until he's back home safely."

"You mean, you're going to fuss at him," said Draco, with a knowing smirk.

"So what if I am? He must promise me that he'll Apparate directly home at the first sign of trouble. The house is heavily warded, although, in hindsight, it was fortunate that Severus kept them open for you. What if you'd had to Apparate to the Burrow instead?"

"Lord!" exclaimed Ginny. "It doesn't bear thinking about. And Draco would have been lucky to come out of it with his . . . erm . . . _head_ intact. The twins have a deadly aim with their wands."

"My _head_, eh?" Draco raised an amused eyebrow. "And then I would have had to string them up for treason, so a lot of good _that_ would have done," he said arrogantly. "Thankfully, it all turned out alright. We may have been in dishabille, but we made it out safely." 

He looked well pleased with himself.

Hermione smiled at them as she murmured her goodnight, leaving them alone.

Draco immediately gave Ginny a concerned glance. Her bright red hair, which always seemed so sunny, was currently in startling contrast to her pale face and her dark soulful eyes were very guarded at the moment. Even her freckles seemed to be hiding. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. "You've barely stopped shaking."

"I suppose I'm still in shock. One minute I'm having the most delicious moment of my life and the next I'm skidding naked across my old Potion Master's floor. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face." 

A snicker escaped before she could stop it.

"That's more like it," thought Draco.

He laughed. "Yes, it's worth remembering, isn't it? If I didn't know better I'd say they were both overwhelmed by my beauty." Ginny rolled her eyes as he reached over and took the tumbler out of her hands and set it on an end table. He pulled her fingers to his lips. "I'm sorry it turned out this way, Gin," he murmured. "I had so much more planned for us." He slid her forefinger into his warm mouth and nipped gently.

Ginny's breathing hitched for a moment. "Well, hold that thought," she said huskily. "I hope to continue the night's activities sometime soon, when things calm down. Only next time, we do it in a safe place."

He leaned over and gave her a brief, sweet kiss. "Isn't that what the Muggles call, 'safe sex'?" he asked playfully.

"No . . . I think that's something else."

"Oh." 

He stared intently at the fire before Ginny broke the silence.

"Draco, what are you going to do? It's obvious you have dangerous enemies out there." 

He looked at her as if he was amazed that she even asked the question. "Why, I'll do what any self-respecting Prince would do under the circumstances," he retorted.

"And that would be?"

The expression on Draco's face darkened, before he answered.

"I must build an army," he said fiercely. "One that is loyal only to me." 

The harshness of his tone caused her to turn and study him. His jaw was set mulishly and his eyes were as hard as diamonds. He stood suddenly, his posture erect as he was silhouetted against the fire and his face took on a deep, focused look. Ginny noticed that he was firmly tapping his wand against his palm.

He positively radiated power and for a fleeting moment, she felt completely safe. 

And she knew that look from The Final Battle: He was channeling his Slytherin Warrior and woe to anyone who got in his way. If Ginny hadn't been so utterly exhausted she would have been extremely turned on. 

Then Draco completely broke the mood with his next comments. 

"I'll build a _huge _army . . . one with really spiffing uniforms," he murmured. "And of course, Severus will be my general. Don't you think he'd look smashing in feather plumes? Hermione would be all over him like ham on a sandwich."

Ginny tossed her head in exasperation, shooting him a disapproving look. 

"I know what you're trying to do and it won't work," she said. "You can't protect me from the reality of your situation, so don't try to make light of it, Draco Malfoy. Besides, Snape would never agree to feathers . . . he'd kill you himself first." 

Draco gave her a mock scowl. "Party-pooper."

She stood up wearily. "I can't think about this anymore tonight. I'm going to bed, Draco." 

"You go ahead, sweetness. I'm too wound up right now, but I'll join you soon."

She moved towards him and Draco met her halfway, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. She was rigid for a moment before relaxing and melting against him. He buried his face in her hair.

"It will be all right in the end," he said quietly in her ear. "You'll see."

"I'm just so scared for you," she whispered. "For us."

He folded her tighter in his arms. "I know, my love." 

He could think of no words to comfort her, so he just held her. 

***********************************

Jacob Sternbucket was running late, but he really couldn't bring himself to care very much. His wife Dorcas was expecting him home at any time, but this only served to slow his movements down even further.

He _really_ didn't want to go home.

He was a very slight man, some would even say he was rather awkward-looking, but he moved with a surprising grace around the shelves of his apothecary. Examining his stores, he paused every now and then to scratch his quill on a parchment as he moved from shelf to shelf, checking his inventory.

He may have been funny looking, but a brilliant mind lurked behind that unobtrusive body. Or so his mother used to tell anybody who would listen. Perhaps that was why he grew up with absolutely no friends.

Looking around Hogsmeade's Slurp & Gibbons Apothecary, he let out a small sigh as he surveyed the neat and tidy shelves filled with potions.

He wasn't a Potions Master, by any means, but he _did_ know his way around a lab.

His wife's nagging voice kept a shrill commentary running through his head and he tried to ignore it. He really should be Apparating back home, but he just couldn't face her this soon after their latest row. She'd been stomping around the house all morning, in a foul temper and although none of it was his fault, she still managed to take it out on him anyway.

It was so bloody unfair.

After all, it was for _her_ sake that he'd been working long, extra hours in the lab, trying his hand with different potion ingredients in a futile attempt to solve the medical problems that caused her infertility and his unending misery. They'd consulted with various Healers and Potions Masters, all of whom had said there was nothing that could be done about it. Dorcas had been inconsolable.

"Brilliant or not, mum," he thought to himself. _"I'm an utter failure."_

Jacob finished his inventory, leaving the parchment on an old worn desk that was wedged into the back storeroom. The urge to get thoroughly pissed was foremost on his mind as he made his way out of the apothecary to shut the front door, locking it with a wave of his wand. He sluggishly made his way down the road to The Three Broomsticks, his steps deliberately slow and tentative.

Once he found himself inside the pub, he squinted at the lighting that illuminated the interior of the cheery establishment. Desperately wanting a drink, he quickly made his way to the bar, hopping up on a stool. He pulled out a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet from his robe pocket and caught the eye of Madam Rosmerta. 

"Your usual?" Rosmerta asked, as she took a swipe at the bar with a wet cloth. Jacob nodded curtly. Looking around, he noticed an ancient man, sitting to his left, a mug of dark ale clenched firmly in his gnarled hand. The old man tipped his head in greeting.

"I take it you come here often, young man," he said gruffly.

Jacob only grunted, not really wanting any company at the moment. The old man didn't seem to notice as he extended his hand.

"Aloysius Hamhock, at your service," he said by way of introduction. "And you are?"

"My name is Jacob Sternbucket," the younger man answered dully. "I'm better known as Jacob the Apothecary."

"Ah yes! You're the fellow who runs the Slurp & Gibbons. I thought I recognized you." Aloysius beamed at him in a friendly fashion.

Jacob suppressed a sigh. He could see that he wasn't going to get any peace this evening.

The old man took a deep swig of his ale, his white hair and beard obscuring most of his face as he contemplated Jacob. A pair of deep set dark eyes looked penetratingly at him and the younger man squirmed in discomfort.

"If you don't mind my saying, you look decidedly unhappy, Jacob the Apothecary," Aloysius commented. "Trouble at home?"

Jacob could feel the anger building in him . . . the nerve of the old man! He answered him slowly in an effort to put a polite spin on his response.

"I don't see that it's any of your business, sir," he said, barely hiding his irritation.

The old man shook his head. "I'm sorry, my boy. I know that it's none of my concern, it's just that you looked so sad. Sometimes it helps to talk about these things, even if it's to a stranger. My wife died ten years ago and to be quite honest, it's been the most peaceful ten years I've had since childhood."

Jacob was surprised that the old man seemed to know just where his unhappiness lay. He vainly resisted the urge to stay silent and instead, found himself opening up to this stranger.

"What can I say, Al?" he murmured finally. "It all just seems so pointless, doesn't it? You do everything right, you find a nice girl and settle down and then it all goes to hell in a handcart. I should be happy, after all, the country is at peace and I'm making a good living, yet I feel like I have nothing to look forward to."

"So your wife doesn't understand you, eh? What seems to be the problem?"

It was all that Aloysius needed to ask before the floodgates of Jacob's misery opened up and he found himself complaining to the old man about the circumstances of his life. Aloysius clucked at him in sympathy, nodding at the right times and he seemed genuinely interested in Jacob's diatribe.

They spoke for another half-hour, as Jacob downed several whiskeys in that short period of time, pouring out his heart to the old man. To his credit, Aloysius paid for all his drinks and by the end of it, Jacob was feeling very loose and surly.

The younger man paused to glance at his copy of The Daily Prophet. "And to make matters worse," he snarled, "The political situation in this country is deteriorating rapidly, if you ask me. Oh, I suppose things had to change after The War, but why we need a monarchy is beyond me. And of all people!"

He looked at Draco Malfoy's picture on the front page and poked at it savagely.

"I just hate that he seems to always get what he wants," he said harshly.

"Do you know Draco Malfoy personally?" Aloysius asked with curiosity.

From somewhere inside of Jacob the anger and hatred welled up and it was surprising in its intensity. "No, but I know all about him," the Apothecary sneered. "He's led a privileged life and everything has been handed to him since birth. He's never had to work for anything in his life, as far as I can see. He does _one_ clever little thing to help defeat the Dark Lord and next thing you know the Ministry is going to make him a king! It's a travesty, I tell you! And he's going to corrupt that nice Weasley girl, I'm sure." 

He couldn't hide the blatant jealousy in his voice.

Aloysius looked intently in his ale before answering in a low voice. "Well, between you and me, Jake, I have to agree with you. A monarchy is a poor form of government in this day and age and Draco Malfoy is a poor choice to run this country." The old man shifted his eyes furtively. "And I've got it on good authority that he's a sniveling, ferret-faced brat."

"Hear, hear!" muttered Jacob, lifting his glass to his new friend, Al.

They drank another round before Jacob reluctantly admitted that it was time to leave. Aloysius encouraged him and gave a last little bit of advice before he settled his tab and turned to the young man.

"I have to go myself, Jake," he said with affection. "But I'll be here tomorrow night if you want company. I think you're a nice bloke. And a smart one, too."

Jacob the Apothecary was ridiculously flattered. He nodded his good-byes as the old man slowly made his way to the door.

Had Jacob immediately followed behind him, he would have been startled to see the old man's pace quicken as he spryly made his way down the road to an area behind The Shrieking Shack. Once Aloysius was sure that he hadn't been followed or observed, his form suddenly shifted and in his place stood a tall, apple-cheeked young man with brilliant blue eyes.

"Another potential recruit for The Cause," he muttered happily to himself, before he Disapparated.

********************************************

Severus Snape was chilled to the bone as he moved closer to the fire in Albus Dumbledore's office. It didn't seem to matter what time of the year it was . . . the old, draughty castle still managed to remain brisk, despite all the warming spells and fireplaces that magic could conjure. 

He was thankful that he was now only an occasional visitor to the school. The fourth happiest day of his life was the day he'd tendered his resignation to the Headmaster, twenty-four hours after Hermione had agreed to marry him. 

His other three happiest days had involved Hermione . . . and a soft bed.

Albus shook him out of his rumination by handing him a steaming cup of tea.

"I do hope you're not planning on keeping me in suspense much longer, Severus."

"I'm trying to warm up, thank you very much," said the younger man. He'd already briefly visited with Hermione through the Floo network, telling her he was safe and that he'd be coming home soon. Giving a mental command, he eyed the flames, causing them to roar even higher within the fireplace.

The Headmaster shot him an envious look. "You make me wish I could do wandless magic, my boy. It certainly would come in handy when my rheumatism is acting up."

"You could do it if you wanted to," answered Severus, gruffly. "You're just too stubborn."

Albus took a deep sip of his tea. "Old-fashioned would be more like it," he murmured. "There's nothing like the power of pointing a wand at something before casting a spell. I'm very attached to my wand, you know. Both of them," he chuckled.

Severus did not grin at the feeble joke, only giving Dumbledore a wordless nod as he stared absently into the fire.

"So, what took you away from your new wife at this late hour?" the Headmaster asked gently. "I have to say that I was most surprised to hear from you."

Severus pulled out a very small object from his robe pocket, setting it on the stone floor in front of the fireplace. With a muttered word, the object enlarged.

"Do you recognize this, Albus?"

"Oh, indeed," answered the Headmaster. "That's Hermione's Magic Particle Spectometer. A brilliant invention, if I may say. However, I was hoping that it would stay in retirement with you for a while longer."

"So was I. Unfortunately, I've had occasion to use it within the last hour. I don't have to tell you that what I'm about to say goes no further than this room?"

"Of course not. Tell me everything."

Severus began his story by telling Dumbledore about the attack on the future Prince of Avalon and his visit to the scene of the crime only minutes earlier.

"It was most peculiar, Headmaster," said Severus. "Even though the spell had been cast at least a half hour previously, the air still resonated with the unknown energy. It was extremely powerful and I could literally feel the magic darting between the trees. When I used the Spectometer, the readings were completely off the parchments. I just can't figure it out. The good news is that Hermione, in her usual compulsive manner, has had just about every spell she could think of analyzed and charted as she was working on this invention. If there's a similar spell out there, we'll find it." 

Albus peered at the Spectometer. It consisted of a bluish crystal ball that was as large as a medium sized pumpkin. The crystal was hollow in the inside and the interior of was a complete vacuum, allowing magic to flow unimpeded through its centre. The purpose was to conduct magical energy and break it down to its elemental components, so that it could be studied and analyzed.

It was extremely controversial because it broke the unspoken taboo against mixing Muggle and Magical Science. In fact, most wizards were not even remotely interested in where magic came from, or why some folks were inherently magical and others weren't. That's just the way things _were_. However, the device had been crucial in the fight against Voldemort, so most wizards were willing to forgive Hermione her break with tradition. 

A piece of parchment was attached to the base of the Spectometer and Severus pulled it off, handing it to the Headmaster.

"These are the last readings I took, but they're identical to all the other readings taken within the last hour. It appears that the spell had the components of the Avada Kedavra, but Malfoy mentioned that the magic was red and not green, as one would expect. You'll notice that this energy here (he pointed to some squiggly lines on the parchment), is something new . . . something I've never seen before. It seems to have altered the Avada Kedavra, but I don't understand how. It's got something to do with time, though. I'm sure of it." 

Suddenly Albus Dumbledore's face turned as white as his beard and his spindly legs began to shudder. Concerned, Severus led him over to a chair, curious as to what had affected the Headmaster so.

"There's no need to do an analysis," said Albus. "I know very well what spell was cast on young Malfoy."

His pale eyes were bleak as he looked at Severus. "I haven't seen that spell since the war with Grindelwald. It was supposed to be buried within the Department of Secrets at the Ministry, but apparently somebody has found it. This is trouble, Severus. Big trouble."

"What is it?"

"Have you ever heard of an Antequam Eructo?"

Severus frowned and shook his head.

"I'm not surprised," said Dumbledore. "The knowledge of its existence has been hidden for many years." 

He lifted his wand in a shaky hand and looked at it thoughtfully before he ventured an explanation. "It's a spell that is cast on the intended victim without his or her knowledge and it has absolutely no effect at the moment that it is cast. However, at some point later on, depending how the spell is uttered, the Killing Curse is released. By that time, the person who cast the spell is long gone."

Severus looked at him in disbelief. "Are you saying that there is a delay between the time the spell is cast and when it is released?"

"I'm afraid so, my boy. Grindelwald's Minister of Propaganda designed it over sixty years ago. There were many, many successful assassinations because of it. The spell was eventually contained and all those on the losing side who knew of it were either executed or sent to Azkeban. The irony is that Miss Weasley and Mr. Malfoy were completely alone at the time they were attacked. If Mr. Malfoy had not moved suddenly when he did, he would most assuredly be dead. As it is, it appears that he was just very lucky."

Snape's mind was reeling with the implications.

"It is the ultimate terrorist weapon, as it can also be adapted for Explosion Spells," the Headmaster added quietly. "And there is no defense for it at this time."

"So this means that an assassin can cast this spell and then be kilometres away from the scene when it takes effect?" Severus' voice was incredulous.

The Headmaster nodded. "And there's the rub . . . it takes a keen sense of concentration to cast the spell because it's extremely difficult to execute and it's very complicated. And what's more, if it is done incorrectly, it backfires, instantly killing the person who casts it. That is why it is known for being the spell of choice for assassins who are passionate about a political or religious cause." He paused for a few seconds before he murmured; "Only a fanatic would dare to cast such a spell."

Snape whistled. "Hex me sideways!" he exclaimed.

"Indeed."

"It appears that Lord Malfoy will have to stay out of sight until we can come up with a counter-spell," continued Dumbledore. "Back in my day, we didn't have this nifty Spectometer to help invent spells and potions, so I'm hoping that your wife will be able to come up with something that will keep the future Prince of Avalon safe. In the meantime, we're going to have to find a hiding place for him."

"Oh, I have just the place to keep him safe," said Severus thoughtfully. "And I know just the person to insure his safety."

Albus raised a fluffy white eyebrow.

"It appears that my nephew is in need of a bodyguard." 

"Oh my . . . and why do I know what's coming?" The Headmaster braced himself.

"Only Harry Potter will do," Severus answered.

Albus Dumbledore started shaking with mirth and pretty soon, a full-blown gleeful howl was issuing from his throat. "Oh that's wonderful!" he wheezed. "Just wonderful! I'm not sure if Draco will be any safer with Mr. Potter, though. They just might kill each other first."

"Don't laugh, Albus. It's the only way. Unfortunately, Harry Potter is the best Auror at the Ministry and _nobody_ can dodge and counter a Dark Spell like Potter," said Severus firmly. 

"Young Malfoy will not be happy, to say the least." 

The Potions Master snorted. "Are you asking me if I care? Because I don't."

"And what if Mr. Potter refuses?" asked Dumbledore.

It was Severus' turn to raise an eyebrow. "Surely you jest."

"Of course," murmured the Headmaster. "What was I thinking? Mr. Potter is all about duty and honor, is he not? And if I may suggest . . . you might want to remove Lord Malfoy's wand before you tell him that he's going to have to spend an unknown amount of time in the company of Mr. Potter." 

Nodding mutely, the Potions Master rose from his chair.

"And it would be best if you remove all breakable items from the room," Dumbledore added.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in weary resignation.

Oh bloody hell.

To be continued . . . 

******************************************

Author's Notes: Both the Ocularis Nox and Antequam Eructo are products of my own imagination: Occularis Nox is a night vision potion and Antequam Eructo is loosely translated as meaning "cast before time" . . . I don't speak or conjugate Latin, so I'm sure the tenses and perhaps the genders are off, but oh well. If there are any "Latinites" (or is it "Latinics"?) out there, you might do me a favor and e-mail me with any corrections, heh.

This was obviously a "set-up" chapter. Draco is in for it now!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I so appreciate it. And once again, my Beta Elizabeth was most helpful. Thanks E!


	6. Chapter 5: Anarchy

Disclaimer: This fic is rated R for language and sexual situations. You have been warned!

******************************************

How many ways to get what you want  
I use the best I use the rest  
I use the enemy I use anarchy cos I  
  
I wanna be anarchy!  
The only way to be!

~ From the song, "Anarchy in the U.K." by The Sex Pistols

******************************************

Chapter 5: Anarchy

"This is all your fucking fault, Potter!" 

"Shut up and keep running, you stupid twat! They're gaining on us!"

Draco looked back at the spectacle of horror that was descending upon them. Dozens of crazed cupids were flying in Battle Formation, shooting little pink arrows at the frantic wizards running down the hallway. Harry cursed as an arrow went whizzing by his nose.

Both Harry and Draco were running in random zig-zag patterns, trying to confuse the cupids and avoid the rain of arrows.

Draco began murmuring under his breath as he sprinted. 

"This will work like a Charm, he said. Nobody will recognize us in a Muggle hotel, he said." His voice rose in hysteria. "Leave it to me, he said . . . well bloody hell! If I make it out of here alive, I'll gladly kill you, Potter!" he shouted.

"Well, given that I have to spend the next few months in your company, I welcome Death!" yelled Harry back in frustration.

Suddenly an arrow found its mark, embedding itself in Draco's left butt cheek. He screeched to a halt and turned, a goofy grin on his face.

Forty-one teenaged witches squealed with delight as Draco began blowing kisses at them.

One of the young girls screamed, "It worked! It worked! The cupid got him!" 

They'd been chasing Harry and Draco down the hall of the Muggle hotel with a reconnaissance force of cupids in tow and copies of Witch Weekly clutched in their sweaty little hands. Draco looked dreamily at the adoring throng.

"Groupies," muttered Harry. "Merlin help us." He quickly pulled out his wand and pointed at Draco. "Finite Incantatum," he said. Immediately Draco's face turned thunderous as he bellowed at Harry.

"You incompetent twit! You're supposed to be protecting me!" 

Harry pulled him by the scruff of his shirt. "I said to keep running, you idiot! We're not out of it yet!" Behind them, they could hear a collective growl coming from the girls as the cupids reloaded their arrows.

Who knew that groupies could be so . . . well, so menacing? Draco was quite certain that he would rather have faced Lord Voldemort again then this gaggle of hormone-laden teenyboppers.

As they sprinted to the end of the hall, Harry turned sharply to the right, while Draco dove to the left. Harry ventured a peek from behind the corner, his wand pointed at the ready.

"Do something vicious," Draco encouraged him. 

Harry shook his head. "I can't . . . they're just ickle witches! I don't want to hurt anyone." As Harry said this, a Binding Hex shot over his head, barely missing its mark.

Draco made a rude gesture at him. "You're fired, Potter! Fired! Fired! Fired!"

Ignoring him, Harry sighed and pointed his wand in the middle of the hallway, quietly murmuring a spell.

A very fine, yet very strong spider's web shot from his wand and spread itself across the hall, capturing some of the unfortunate cupids, while others stopped in mid-flight, bumping into each other and falling from the air. Several of the captured cupids began cursing at them in Greek and one of them even managed to shoot another arrow at Draco's peering head, although the little creature was hanging upside down, caught in the web's vice-like grip.

"Persistent little buggers," muttered Harry. 

"Well, we'd better think of something else, quick. That web won't hold those persistent little buggers for long," sneered Draco.

"I'm thinking! I'm thinking!"

"What about the Safe House? There's supposed to be a Safe House! We can Apparate there."

"It's not secured yet, Malfoy. We had to leave so quickly that we didn't have time to get things in order."

Oh despair. Draco dropped his head in his hands. He'd been wrong. This wasn't Potter's fault at all.

It was Uncle Severus' fault. If he made it out of this with his dubious virtue intact, he was going to hex the Potions Master to within a centimetre of his wretched life.

Great idea, indeed.

The bloody bastard.

**************************************

Said bastard was actually quite satisfied with himself at that very moment, as he poured another brandy and settled himself before a roaring fire.

Warming the liquor with his hands, Severus swirled the snifter and contemplated the quick-moving events of the day. He took a dainty sip, savoring the feel of the brandy as it slid down his throat.

After his meeting with the Headmaster the previous night, Severus had come home to a quiet house and had gathered just enough energy to pull himself up the stairs to plop himself on his bed. Hermione had briefly stirred, reaching for him as he began to hastily undress.

"Thank heavens you're safe," she'd said quietly. He'd settled himself next to her and given her a brief kiss.

"Where's Draco?" he'd asked.

"He and Ginny are spending the night. You'll have time to speak to him in the morning, I'm sure. Obviously he needs to hear what he's up against."

"Your Magic Particle Spectometer worked beautifully, my love. We were able to identify the spell that was aimed at Malfoy and Albus and I have come up with a plan to keep him safe. I'm going to propose it to him in the morning," he'd muttered as he pulled her close.

"I'm sure you'll convince him to be sensible," she'd answered.

"I wouldn't count on it," he said, as sleep began to overtake him.

He'd dreamt of explosions and anarchy all night long.

Severus remembered finding his nephew early the following morning, a cup of steaming coffee clutched in the younger man's hands as he stood before the large window in the dining room. He'd paused to observe Draco as he stared out the window.

The boy was deep in thought and when he saw his uncle, he turned to study him. Severus noticed that Draco's chin was set and that his jaw had tightened. Malfoy finally broke the silence.

"I've been thinking about what happened last night and I've come to the conclusion that I need to bring the Ancient Houses into the fold. It's time to consolidate my power."

"Don't you think it's a little premature?"

Draco shook his head. "It's never too early. There is strength in numbers, after all."

Severus was quiet for a moment before answering, "Perhaps you're right. After what I discovered last night, you're going to need all the allies you can get."

"So what happened?"

Severus grunted as he sat down on the sofa. He knew that he was going to have to approach the subject rather delicately. "I intend to tell you everything, but first you must hand over your wand."

Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Whatever for?"

Severus lied smoothly. "I need to examine it to make sure that no Impediment Spells have been cast upon it."

Draco reluctantly handed it over. "If you say so. And quit being obtuse and just spit it out. What have you discovered?"

Severus tucked Draco's wand in his pocket before turning his attention to the blond wizard. In a quiet, steady voice, he told Draco of his meeting with Dumbledore and what he'd learned about the Antequam Eructo spell. Draco looked surprised, but remained silent while Severus outlined the events of the evening.

And then he came to the crux of the matter:

"We have come to the conclusion that you need a bodyguard, at least until such time as we can find a counter-spell to the Antequam Eructo."

"A bodyguard," said Draco slowly.

"We were thinking of Harry Potter."

"No fucking way."

Severus stood up and moved menacingly towards Draco. "You're a Slytherin, Malfoy . . . you know what that means. It means that you do _whatever_ it takes to win."

Draco gave his uncle a haughty look. "I thought being a Slytherin means living by the motto, 'When all else fails, sneer.'" His lip curled to emphasize the point.

Severus shook his head in exasperation. "Do you think this is a game? Here's another saying to live by: Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate. And I'm quite certain that your enemies are accumulating as we speak."

Draco snorted. "All the more reason to gather the Ancient Houses together to test the waters. I have a plan . . . I haven't worked out the details, but it involves the distribution of vast amounts of land and money, as well as strategic political appointments. But first I have to listen to them . . . listen to what they want and listen to them speak of the direction they desire for this country. Then I can formulate a response. If there are enemies amongst them, I must allow them to come closer. It's the only way to root them out."

Severus sighed with relief. At least the boy was showing some sense. Then Draco completely unnerved him with his next comment.

"And Harry Potter is out of the loop. There's no way I'm spending any time with that self-important git."

"Be reasonable . . . "

"Hell no."

"You're being stupid, Malfoy."

"But I'm being royally stupid, which means I don't have to do anything I don't want to."

Severus let out a low growl. "Over my dead body, you little brat." He moved again threateningly towards Malfoy.

Draco pulled a wand from his sleeve and pointed it at one of Hermione's favorite flower vases, lifting it with a Wingardium Leviosa. It had been a wedding gift from her grandmother. The fragile vase quivered in the air.

"Stay where you are, Snape, or the little vase gets it!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Pulling out the wand he'd previously confiscated from Draco, he looked at it in confusion.

"I thought I'd disarmed you," he said despairingly.

"Ha! You're so obvious. Just try using it! I dare you!"

Snape pointed the wand at Draco. "Expelliarmus!" he bellowed. The wand immediately sprouted a bouquet of cheap-looking silk flowers.

"At least the Weasley twins are good for something besides keeping me out of their sister's underwear," Draco said smugly. "They have a genius for stupid gags. Bless them both, I say."

"Bugger and Blast!" muttered Severus. He was going to have to try a different tact.

A feminine voice had then interrupted his thoughts.

"Accio flower vase!" Hermione had shouted indignantly. The vase flew to her outstretched hand. She'd managed to sneak up on them and at that moment, she was glowering at Draco with an expression utterly reminiscent of their school days.

"Honestly Malfoy! Are you ever going to grow up? How dare you attack a defenseless vase!"

Draco had given her a childish pout.

"You don't know what he's proposing, Hermione! He actually thinks I'm going to spend the best part of my youth with that wanking, do-gooder of a Gryffindor. No offense, love," he'd added when he saw the angry look on her face. "But I'd rather suck dragon eggs."

"Hmmph!" Hermione said. "I _do_ know what he's proposing and you'd do well to listen to Severus, you ungrateful prat."

Draco began to argue with her and Severus had finally reached his breaking point.

"Enough!" he'd yelled. "I've had enough of this nonsense!"

Draco, recognizing the look on his uncle's face, had tried to flee but it was too late.

"Petrificus totalis!" Severus roared, pointing an index finger at Draco. 

Wandless magic was really a godsend at times.

Draco teetered precariously before tipping backwards to the floor. Severus gave him a self-satisfied smirk.

"What is it about Potter that makes a normally clear-headed monarch-to-be such a monumental dunderhead?" he'd complained loudly.

One thing about the Petrificus totalis was that it didn't seem to affect the eyelids. As if to demonstrate, Draco's eyes narrowed in frustrated anger, as he lay rigid.

"Don't bother answering," said Severus smoothly. "It was a rhetorical question."

He began to pace around Draco, prodding him with his foot. 

"Are you prepared to give up?" he hissed at the prone figure. "Or perhaps you'd rather die. It can all be arranged. I'm very close to telling you to sod off, myself."

Draco made a couple of muffled noises and Severus was not surprised that he'd actually understood the phrase, "Fuck you," in that cacophony of sound.

"No, fuck _you_, Malfoy," he'd snarled. "You think I don't know how you're feeling? Nobody hated Potter more than I did, at one time. Not even you."

Draco fell immediately silent at his uncle's tone of voice.

"He was just like his father," spat Severus. "All arrogant and sure of himself. So bloody convinced that he could take everything upon his own shoulders and triumph. He made me sick every time I looked at him. I hated the fact that he even existed."

Hermione had blanched. Severus knew that she'd never heard such venom in his voice . . . not even when he'd railed against Voldemort and certainly not in all the years he'd spent blustering at his students. The closest he'd ever come to it in her presence was when he'd lost it in the Shrieking Shack during her third year.

Severus looked down at Draco and his voice softened.

"I hated Potter's guts, but I also saw his burden. I saw it at the end of his fifth year, when his rashness and stupidity was greatly responsible for Sirius Black's death. And I saw my own culpability . . . we were united in our misery, Potter and I. To be honest, I didn't give a rat's arse about Black, but I did care that I had one more death staining my soul. And as much misery as Potter had caused me, I'd caused him even more. I was partly responsible for the death of the one person that Harry Potter needed above all others. And I found absolutely no joy in it."

Severus' face twisted with regret before he continued. 

"It was then that I realized that I'd wasted my malice and hatred on the boy," he said quietly.

The stillness of the room was deafening before Severus continued with his story. 

"I saw Potter leaving the Headmaster's office the night we all thought that Sirius Black had died. He was muttering over and over and over again, "I'll make them pay. They'll all pay for what they've done."

He paused.

"And in that moment, I respected him. The following year he killed Bellatrix LeStrange while taunting Voldemort and my respect for him grew even more. And I finally realized that he's useful, which is more than I can say for the majority of humanity. He's a means to an end, Malfoy . . . and nothing more. You don't have to like him, but you do have to understand this about him: He will chose his fight and he will fight to the death. He'll protect you with his life, if need be. And he's shown himself to be remarkable at self-preservation. At this point, he's your best hope."

Draco was making strange noises, obviously struggling to say something. He was making the same two sounds, over and over again. Severus lifted a brow to Hermione, who just shrugged.

"I believe he's saying, 'oil can'," she said soberly. 

She chuckled at Severus' inquiring expression. "Nevermind. I'll explain the Muggle reference later. In the meantime, I think it's safe to end the spell."

Severus reached for Malfoy's right hand. "I'm taking his wand just in case."

He bent to Draco's ear as he took the wand. "Potter has agreed to protect you with his life," he whispered harshly. "Now quit being a fool and take your potion like a man." He muttered the Finite Incantatum and Draco flexed his extremities before standing up.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd be calling for your execution, but seeing as you're only trying to help, I'll overlook it for now," he said snootily to Severus. "And by the way, I was saying, 'free me', not 'oil can.' You are utterly daft, Hermione."

Severus folded his arms to his chest. "Well?" he asked.

Draco let out an exaggerated huff. "Since you seem to have your heart set on this, then yes . . . I'll accept Potter as my (_here he shuddered_) bloody bodyguard."

Severus had given Draco an evil-looking grin. "An excellent decision, my Lord."

"But I intend to make his life miserable."

"Of course. It only stands to reason." Severus lips had twitched subtlety.

The last he'd seen of Malfoy that morning, the tow-headed wizard had been kissing Ginny Weasley, telling her that he'd find a way to smuggle her to wherever Potter was taking him. Not that Severus could blame him.

Snape was quite certain that after one day spent in Potter's company, Malfoy would need the kind of stress relief that only Ginny Weasley could provide. And given Potter's recent history with Miss Weasley, Draco was definitely going to enjoy rubbing it in the Gryffindor's face.

Severus would not begrudge Draco that, in the least.

Bringing his thoughts to the present, the Potions Master took a last sip of his brandy, before heading off to bed.

"I wonder how the heroic Harry Potter is faring with my blasted nephew?" he thought, as he climbed the stairs. 

Little did he know.

****************************

The heroic Harry Potter was _not_ having a good time.

At all.

He was currently caught between a snarling Slytherin, a plague of insane cupids and dozens of slobbering groupies.

In fact, if this wasn't Hell, then it was pretty damned close.

And to make matters worse, the spider web was starting to quiver and soon, anarchy would reign supreme again.

Harry looked down the hallway behind him, noticing the doors to all the rooms. And then something clicked.

Hey, wait a minute.

"Follow me," he yelled at Draco. "I've got an idea!"

Draco immediately stood and went running across the intersection of the hallway. As he ran by, scores of pink arrows assailed him and he went diving towards Harry, doing a somersault as he landed. With a catlike grace, he sprang up, grinning as Harry rolled his eyes at him.

"He's secretly enjoying this, the little blighter," Harrythought savagely.

Harry and Draco began running down the hall and at the first door he encountered, Harry yelled, "Alohamora!" He opened the door, and peering inside, he was momentarily relieved to see that it was empty.

Just as he was pulling Draco to step inside, a middle-aged woman in a white terrycloth robe walked out of the bathroom, her grayish hair stuck up in several little ponytails. She had a very thick green, goo-like substance smeared all over her face and the only human thing they could make out from her features were her wide eyes and screaming mouth.

"Aaaaaah!" yelled Draco in unison with the woman, as they backed out of the room. Harry slammed the door and started running, while Draco followed, shouting, "That was the single most horrifying thing I've ever seen! And that includes my Death Eater days!"

"Alohamora!" roared Harry at the next door. As it opened, Harry noticed a very overweight man and woman on the large king-sized bed. His eyes widened.

They were naked and going at it like two shagging hippos in an African river.

He tried to shove Malfoy back out of the doorway before he saw the couple, but it was too late.

"Merlin's cloak!" shouted Draco, covering his eyes as the couple on the bed began screaming. "I was wrong! _This_ is the most horrifying thing I've ever seen! If I ever recover my sanity, you're dead dragon meat, Potter!"

"Belt up and keep moving! There has to be an empty room here somewhere!"

They ran down a couple of doorways and once again Harry magically unlocked the door. To his relief, this one was empty. As he turned towards Malfoy, he noted that the future monarch of wizarding Britain was currently frozen in place as he stared down the hall. 

Dozens of very frightening and infuriated cupids were flying towards them, arrows blazing.

Harry grabbed Malfoy by his Sex Pistols tee-shirt, (they were disguised as Muggles, after all) and pulled him into the room, slamming the door behind them.

He immediately began quickly chanting elaborate spells around the doorframe and could hear the staccato of tiny arrows hitting the door. He fervently hoped the wards would hold.

"A little help here would be appreciated, Malfoy. How about securing the windows? Those groupies seem awfully resourceful, you know. Malfoy? Are you even listening to me?"

Draco was busy looking up at the spinning ceiling fan in the middle of the room. He'd just noticed the chain descending from the light and was currently occupied with repeatedly pulling the chain, turning the light on, then off, then on, then off . . . 

Harry smacked himself in the middle of the forehead. He was pretty close to losing it.

"There's got to be a House Elf up there somewhere . . . how the hell do they keep this thing spinning?" Draco muttered.

"MALFOY!"

"I heard you, you great sodding arse-bandit." Draco casually warded the windows and turned to look at Potter.

"Now we're snookered," said Draco. "We're trapped. Trapped like horklumps at a gnome picnic. So tell me . . . do you have a plan, O Great Potty One?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "If you'd just quit whining, I'll tell you."

Draco was settled into a stony silence before Harry spoke again.

"We Apparate to our new destination."

"I thought you said the Safe House wasn't ready."

Harry couldn't help a gleeful snicker. "We're not going to the Safe House. I have the perfect place. Hold on to your wand, we're going for a ride." 

He grabbed Malfoy by his shirt and promptly Apparated.

When Harry finally opened his eyes, they were standing in the middle of a very narrow dirt road and the first thing he noticed was the intense noise. The air was filled with the smell of petrol and booths filled with vegetables and fruits and colorful silk scarves of all shapes and sizes surrounded them. Tiny monkeys seemed to have the run of the place, as the street was filled with them.

It was all delightfully familiar.

Harry knew that they'd dropped in on a wizarding part of town, and the dark-skinned townsfolk only looked at them curiously before moving on. He surveyed his surroundings and felt perfectly at ease. He gave Draco a toothy smile.

"Welcome to Kathmandu!" he said happily, noting the perplexed look on Malfoy's face.

Draco gaped at him. "Katman WHAT?"

"You heard me, Malfoy. We're in Kathmandu. I visited here two months ago, when I went trekking up the Himalayas. It was great fun, by the way."

"The Himalayas? As in huge, unbearably cold mountains?"

Harry nodded. "Nobody would think to look for us here. It's the perfect hiding place."

At that moment, there was a loud explosion about three blocks down the road. Harry and Draco threw themselves on the ground, along with the rest of the surrounding swirl of humanity. 

The air filled with an even greater amount of dust and Draco began to gag and cough.

"Erm, by the way," said Harry sheepishly, as he picked himself up off the ground. "I probably should tell you that Nepal is in the midst of a Muggle civil war. But we _should_ be safe in the countryside. I've got friends there."

He gave Draco a lopsided grin.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT, POTTER!" screamed Draco, as the monkeys screeched and scattered in terror.

To be continued . . . 

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Author's Note: I'm a mean little author to have these two stuck together in the Himalayas, but it seemed like such a delicious idea. And I wanted to add a couple of things: The Slytherin motto, "When all else fails, sneer", was lifted from Lizki's very naughty story, "Lucius' Bookshelves" and I'm assuming she coined it. I thought it was funny and couldn't resist using it here. And the phrase "Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate" is an old saying, but nobody seems to know who the author was.

I also want to thank everyone who has reviewed. It means so much to me that you all take the time to comment on this story. And of course, I must always thank my beta, Elizabeth. She's my barometer!


	7. Chapter 6: Lost

Author's Note: FINALLY! I'm so, so sorry that I have taken so long to continue this story! I've had an unbelievable three months, but now things are starting to settle down and I should be able to update more frequently. I hope, anyway . . .

The usual disclaimers apply . . . enjoy!

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We knew that land once, You and I,  
and once we wandered there  
in the long days now long gone by,  
a dark child and a fair.  
Was it on the paths of firelight thought  
in winter cold and white,  
or in the blue-spun twilit hours  
of little early tucked-up beds  
in drowsy summer night,  
that you and I in

Sleep went down  
to meet each other there,  
your dark hair on your white nightgown  
and mine was tangled fair?

From the poem, "The Little House of Lost Play" in The Book of Lost Tales by JRR Tolkien

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 6: Lost

Remus Lupin looked down at the sleeping figure of Sirius Black and watched in consternation as his friend thrashed about in his bed. The slumbering man seemed to be choking for breath, his body bathed in a light sheen of perspiration.

_"He looks like he's in agony,"_ thought Remus.

He'd been worried for Padfoot . . . he really hadn't seemed like himself for the last couple of months. When Remus had asked Sirius about it, he'd dismissed his concerns with a wave. "It's nothing," he'd said distractedly. "I'm just tired, that's all." Then he would launch into a lame explanation about how running the team for the Warbleton Wombats was a demanding job and that they needed a new seeker . . . and how Harry couldn't do it, etc., etc.

But Remus knew diversion tactics when he heard them. He'd noticed the dark circles under his friend's eyes and the way his skin was starting to look rather translucent.

_What the hell was up with Sirius these days? He seems so lost._

Remus had stopped by that morning to check on his friend and had become concerned when there had been no response to his insistent knocks on the door. He'd hoped the reason was because he had some chit in his bed and couldn't be arsed to answer. However, when he heard Padfoot yelling, he easily broke through the wards and stormed Sirius' bedroom . . .

Only to find him in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

"No," Sirius muttered in his sleep. "You can't leave . . . please Cissy, don't listen to them!" His voice rose quite loudly. "We can be together now . . .no! NO! LET GO OF HER!"

He clawed frantically in the air as he screamed, "CISSY! COME BACK!"

Remus was struck by the anguish in Sirius' voice. It rather reminded him of the howling noises he used to make, before he had Wolfsbane Potion to ease his transformation.

Whatever Padfoot was dreaming about, it sounded awful.

Sirius woke up with a sudden start, yet he didn't appear to be surprised to see Remus standing in his bedroom. He blinked sleepily at the werewolf.

Remus sat down on the side of the bed. "Sirius . . . how long have you been having nightmares?"

"Erm . . . for about twenty five years?" Sirius tried to sound lighthearted, but failed miserably. Remus inspected his face, eyes narrowed.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked, rather casually.

Sirius frowned. Try as he might, he couldn't remember the details, only that something horrible was happening and that it involved Narcissa Malfoy.

"I don't remember," he said, sounding evasive. Remus wasn't fooled.

"Do you even want to?"

Sirius squirmed in discomfort. "Look Mooney, just leave it alone," he said harshly. He brushed a hand through his tangled dark hair, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

Remus recognized the mulish expression on his face. The man was hiding something.

"I'm sorry Sirius, but I can't. I've watched you suffer a lot over the years, and I could certainly understand it then, given the circumstances, but I have to say that I just don't understand your current torment. Voldemort is dead, and not only have you been cleared of all charges, but you're also considered a war hero. You'd be one of the most eligible bachelor in Britain, if it weren't for the fact that you're getting a little long in the tooth."

Sirius grinned, "The girls don't seem to mind my age."

Remus gave him a scathing look. "Perhaps it's time you started _acting_ your age."

Sirius looked positively horrified, which made Remus laugh.

"Stop trying to change the subject, it won't work. And I could help you, you know," he said when he stopped chuckling. "I heard what you were yelling. This has to do with Narcissa Malfoy."

Sirius wouldn't meet his eye and Remus gave a long, suffering sigh.

"I've never understood your fascination with that Ice Queen," he said distastefully. "But I must say that she did seem to thaw out when she was with you. And then suddenly, things changed. I never understood what happened."

"Lucius Malfoy happened."

Remus gave him a considering look. "No, something happened _before_ Malfoy came on the scene. Don't you remember? One day the two of you were the best of friends and the next, you acted as if she was merely some distant acquaintance. And she seemed to ignore you completely. What the hell really happened? You never wanted to discuss it."

Sirius shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Remus looked thoughtful. "Curious," he said softly. "Yes . . . you definitely need me to help you."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"Honestly, Sirius. Your resistance is getting to be quite vexing. To be more specific, I could help you remember your dreams, you fuckin' plonker! Perhaps we could get to the root of why you're being plagued by nightmares."

Sirius pushed Remus away from the bed as he swung his legs over the side to get up. "It's not important, Mooney. Just leave it alone."

Remus decided to change strategies. "What if I told you that sooner or later, these nightmares are going to prevent you from keeping the young witches in your bed?"

Sirius smiled ruefully. "What if I told you that they already have? Apparently, yelling another woman's name in your sleep really puts a girl off."

Remus arched a startled eyebrow. "Oh, well . . . that settles it then," he said. " I'm surprised you've allowed it to go on this long, considering the price you're paying. Yes, I think it's time we did something about this."

"What are you going to do?"

"Before I tell you, I have to ask . . . do you trust me, Sirius?

"Don't be ridiculous, of course . . ."

Remus interrupted him. "No, you don't understand. Do you trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets? Things that you wish no one to know? Because if you don't trust me, this isn't going to work . . . "

A light went off in Sirius' head. "You don't mean to," he sputtered. "Surely you wouldn't . . . "

Remus interrupted him. "You know I was trained in Legilimens by Snape . . . and don't call me Shirley," he added. "Sorry . . . it just _had_ to be said."

Sirius looked like he was ready to flee.

"See here, Padfoot," Remus continued impatiently. "My training came in useful during the war. At the time, Snape's life was in grave danger, and we didn't think he was going to survive the outcome. Of course, he's better at it than I am. Perhaps we should seek his assistance?"

He gave Sirius an evil grin.

"FUCK NO! I'd rather be spanked and shagged senseless by Sybill Trelawney than to have Vladimir Dracula's Evil Twin delving into my private thoughts!"

"That could be arranged . . . I noticed Sybill was staring at your crotch during Hermione and Snape's wedding reception. I think she may have even licked her lips once or twice."

Sirius shuddered, and then began snorting in laughter. "You are an utter bastard, Remus Lupin. And yes, I do trust you, but there has to be another . . ."

His eyes met Remus' and before he could think, he heard the werewolf mutter, "Legilimens!" and felt as though nimble fingers were delving through the deepest recesses of his mind.

It happened so fast, that he didn't even have time to think. He tried to relax and not to push Remus away, but it was starting to feel extremely intrusive. Just as he was going to sever the connection, Remus' presence left his mind.

When he finally opened his eyes, Sirius noted that his friend looked rather pale. In fact, he looked like he'd gotten the shock of his life.

Nervously, Sirius tried to diffuse the situation. "From the look on your face, I'd say that my mind is a vast wasteland," he joked. But the werewolf didn't smile. In fact, he looked very disturbed. Finally Sirius couldn't stand it anymore.

"Mooney, just come out with it! What did you see?"

Remus swallowed nervously. "I. . . I . . . I think someone or something has tampered with your memories."

Sirius was stunned. _Tampered? But how . . . _

"There were some memories in pieces, but I did get some important snippets," said Remus. "It appears that you are trying to remember some things that happened long ago . . . events that have been buried all this time."

He hesitated for a few seconds before he added: "And they involve Narcissa Malfoy."

Sirius looked at him with incredulity. "But they're only dreams! I've been having strange dreams for several weeks now!" His face reddened. "I didn't tell you about them because . . . well . . . some of them were rather shocking . . . I didn't think you wanted to hear about my dreams of shagging my cousin." He looked away in embarrassment.

Remus gave him a gentle look. " I know now why you didn't want to share them with me, but you must know that you can tell me anything. I'd be the last person to judge _anybody_, you know that."

In relief, Sirius let out a breath he'd been holding. Remus continued with his explanation.

"Part of the training in Legilimens is to distinguish dreams and thoughts from actual memories. Most people's subconscious minds swirl between the three and it's very important to know which is which . . . and what you've been experiencing are not dreams, Padfoot. They're true memories."

Sirius began to shake uncontrollably.

"Oh Great Merlin! I've fucked my own cousin! And I don't even remember it! How bloody sick is that?" It was the closest Remus had ever come to seeing Sirius cry_. "This must be affecting him more deeply than I ever knew,"_ he thought.

Remus made a soothing noise before putting a comforting hand on Sirius' shoulder.

"I don't know if this will be any consolation to you, but one thing I do know, my friend: Apparently, Narcissa Malfoy is _not_ your cousin. Of that I am certain. And at one time, you knew it, too."

Sirius felt as if he was once again falling back into the Veil of the Shadows.

He couldn't breathe.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione carried a tea tray into the Potions Lab on the first floor of their house, certain that she'd find her husband bent over a boiling cauldron, deep in concentration. It wasn't that he _expected_ her to wait on him, but she knew that when he was immersed in his work, he sometimes forgot to eat. Since giving up his job at Hogwarts months ago, it seemed that he had a never-ending list of "Things I Put Off For Years And Now Have Time To Do." He was keeping himself very busy.

He grunted a greeting at Hermione as she came in. "Could you hand me that bowl of Pandulus?" he asked without looking up.

Hermione grinned.

"I'm not aware of any potion that requires prawn," she said.

"It's not a potion . . . it's my lunch."

"And here I thought you were doing important work."

He was about to reply that lunch was _very_ important, when he looked past her shoulder and noticed that the crystal ball on his desk was beginning to glow an angry red. He marched over to it and looked in closely.

When Draco and Harry had left town the previous afternoon, Snape had insisted on casting Flitwick's Traceless Tracking Charm on them, just in case things went wrong. The biggest problem with the charm was that, while one could visually track those who were under the spell, verbal communication was impossible. However Severus had perched the crystal tracking ball in a prominent place, knowing that Potter and Malfoy would devise some way to keep him informed.

Of course, when those two got together, it was a certainty that _something_ was going to go astray. In this case, it appeared that Harry had unexpectedly Apparated them to Nepal. At least that's what the Traceless Tracking Charm Map had indicated last night, but at this point, Severus had no idea what had brought them there.

He figured that the further away they were from Britain, the safer they'd be.

Much to Severus' delight, it appeared that their "accommodations" . . . and he used the term loosely, had left something to be desired. From what he could deduce, the two were staying in some remote cave, deep in the mountains.

And Malfoy was in a monumental snit.

Peering into the crystal ball, he was not surprised to see that Draco had figured out a way to communicate.

"Oh for bloody sakes . . . it's Malfoy, and he looks to be in a temper."

Severus could see the rocky walls of the cave and noticed that his nephew looked disheveled, as if he hadn't slept a wink. His long blonde hair was tangled, flopping over one eye and his sneer would have frightened the dead, except he was currently holding a ridiculous looking sign. The same message was flashing over and over again.

"Hermione," called Severus. "You have to come over and see this. It will make your day."

Hermione got over to the crystal ball just in time to see Draco displaying a magical cue card, which read,

"UNCLE SEVERUS: GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE . . . NOW!"

Suddenly a hand shoved him out of the way and Harry appeared in the crystal ball. He also had a cue card, which read,

"IGNORE HIM. HE'S A WUSS."

Draco pushed him back, but not before Hermione and Severus saw that his cue card had changed to the words, "FUCK YOU, WANKER! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Harry then lunged at Draco, swinging his cue card, and hit the blonde in the face. Pretty soon there was mutual hair pulling and then Draco tripped Harry and they crashed to the ground. The last thing the Snapes saw was a blur of color as the two were violently rolling around the cave floor. Thankfully, the image faded from the crystal ball.

Hermione was hooting with laughter and Severus even allowed himself an amused smirk.

"I'm glad we're only getting a little taste of what they're up to," wheezed Hermione. "I'm sure I'd want to kill them both by now, if I had to spend even a day with them. What a couple of big babies."

Severus couldn't have agreed more.

"Those two couldn't stick to an original plan if their lives depended on it, which it usually does," he sighed, before changing his facial expression to one of determination. "Well, the location may have changed, but I think it's time to spice things up a bit. Like all children, they need a diversion, and I have just the thing to take their minds off their troubles."

Hermione looked at him with suspicion. He looked mighty pleased with himself. Whatever it was, the boys were in for it, judging by the peaceful expression on her husband's face.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked cautiously.

"If The Dunderheads won't t go to the Mountain, then the Mountain will go to The Dunderheads," he said enigmatically.

"Good Lord . . . now you're talking in riddles. What is that supposed to mean?"

Severus walked back to his worktable and twirled the wooden spoon between his long fingers before dipping it into the cauldron. "You'll see, my darling. Potter and Malfoy won't know what hit them."

"Draco's right, love. You're going barmy on me."

He gave her a fake glare before dropping the spoon on the table and pulling her into his arms. They stood in the lab, contentedly wrapped around each other. Hermione pulled back to look up at him.

"You look remarkably happy that they're gone," she observed.

"It's just that they're so high-maintenance," sighed Severus. Hermione nodded her head in understanding as Severus looked down and inspected her closely.

"You look like you're dressed to go out," he murmured.

"I'm meeting Ginny at the Leaky Cauldron," she said, rather defiantly.

Severus frowned. "I don't like the idea of you Apparating in your condition."

"My condition? I'm pregnant, not terminally ill. I'm going and there's no stopping me. I'll be home in a couple of hours."

He gave her his best scowl. "You are the most stubborn, inflexible, pigheaded . . . "

Before he could finish his sentence, she'd already Apparated to London.

He sighed. "And she says _I'm_ the barmy one. It's no wonder I'm reduced to talking to my food," he said to the prawns in the cauldron.

To his relief, they didn't answer back.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was dark in the Hogs Head, but then, no matter the time of day or night, it was _always_ dark in that grimy little hellhole. Perhaps that was the reason that it seemed to attract the Oddities and Uglies of the wizarding world . . .

At least they didn't have to actually _see_ each other.

Many wizards and the like would keep their heads down, or their faces covered and the other patrons roundly ignored most. A good number of people there seemed to fade into the filthy woodwork, which is why it was always the best place for a clandestine meeting.

In short, nobody gave a flying doxy _why _you were there.

Tucked back into a corner booth, a young man sat glumly sipping a strange looking purple liquid that would occasionally emit flashy yellow sparks. He was remarkable only in the brightness of his hair, which consisted of florescent green and blue dreadlocks, and in the very elaborate tattoos, which covered his body. He was a strange looking wizard to be sure, yet he commanded very little attention.

Therefore, nobody noticed the tall, hooded figure gliding smoothly over to the booth. The figure bent low to hiss in young man's overly-pierced ear.

"Give it up, you look ridiculous."

The young man gave a pout. "And you look like Voldemort's taller, more annoying little brother. What's with the Death Eater's robes? You were never a Death Eater."

"It's an inside joke," the other man answered. He pulled back his hood to reveal a face that looked exactly like that of Severus Snape. The young man laughed.

"I love your sense of irony," he said. "However did you get any Snape Bits to put in the Polyjuice?"

"Let's just say that we run in some of the same circles."

"Aren't you afraid somebody is going to report you to the Ministry?"

The other man looked around the room with contempt. "What? . . . in this crowd?"

"Good point," murmured the other.

The faux Deatheater gave the young man a penetrating look, which made him squirm. His velvet Snape-voice served to make him even more uncomfortable as it growled:

"There's no need to try to hide it. I can smell your fear. You fucked up and you know it."

"I'm sorry, my Lord. I don't know how he got away, but . . .

"Be thankful he got away! If he hadn't gotten away I would have personally killed you with my bare hands. What the hell were you thinking? You know that we're not ready yet. There are many things that must be put into place before we kill the bastard. And now he's been alerted to his danger."

His lip curled up in true Snape-like fashion. "I'm surrounded by idiots and fools," he sighed.

The younger man leaned forward in the booth, his voice a harsh whisper. "Maybe if you told us who you _really_ are and what you have planned, then perhaps the Rank & File would be more inclined to follow your lead. It's getting more and more difficult to control them."

The Severus Snape-Clone reached over and grabbed the young wizard by a handful of dreadlocks. "Get this into your empty head: You don't need to know who I really am . . . only that I can make your life miserable with a simple command or a flick of my wand. Suffice it to say that we all have the same goal, even if our methods are very dissimilar." He abruptly let go of the other wizard's hair before adding,

"Your meddlesome ways have irreparably changed things. There is a new plan, now."

He paused dramatically, enjoying the look of surprise on the other's face.

"You have a new member of your group," he continued smoothly. "One Jacob Sternbucket, or Jacob the Apothecary, as he likes to be called."

Mr. Dreadlocks just nodded, before finding his voice. "But how . . . how . . . "

"Not that it matters, but I always like to do a little independent investigation of any new member to the Cause . . . strictly precautionary, you know." He paused as a buxom barmaid, with a very large wart on her nose, served him his martini.

"We don't get much call for a fancy drink like that," she observed loudly. "Ol' Clancy had to look that one up in a book."

The young man snorted loudly. "Clancy has never read a book in his life," he muttered as the barmaid swished away. He turned his attention back to the phony Potions Master. "So what did you find out about my friend, Jake? I think he's a bit of a whiner, but his apothecary may be good for some needed supplies, if you know what I mean."

"Indeed," said the other. "In fact, I found out something very interesting about Mr. Sternbucket. As you're well aware, he's very susceptible to the effects of alcohol."

"Loose lips sink ships," snickered Mr. Dreadlocks.

"A condition that may prove fatal to him someday, but for now, he's very useful. Jacob Sternbucket revealed to me that he is the inventor of a very important potion, although he's too thick to realize the treasure he's produced. In fact, he believes that he's a colossal failure because of it. I happen to know otherwise."

It seemed perfectly natural to see Severus Snape reach into his robe pocket to pull out a vial of colorless liquid.

"It looks like water," said the young man.

"That's the beauty of it," said his Lordship. "And the first person who will get to test it is Ginny Weasley."

The young man's face almost turned as green as his dreadlocks. "Ginny Weasley? But, but . . . I thought we were after Draco Malfoy!"

"That's the problem with you and your lot . . . you think entirely too small." He lifted the vial to his nose, and gave a delicate sniff.

"This is going to buy us some time."

_To be continued . . . _

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A/N: Again, thank you all for your reviews . . . I wish I had time to respond individually to them. They continue to inspire me to do my best. And of course, thanks to my beta Elizabeth for all her help.


	8. Chapter 7: Changes

Author's Note: Once again I find myself apologizing for the delay in updating. I'm just so damned busy! I hope you understand . . . 

And I'm laughing at my stupidity: Lady R pointed out that the lyrics to the David Bowie song include the word, "strange" not "strain". Next time I double-check my sources, LOL.

****************************************

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes  
(turn and face the strange)  
_Ch-ch-changes_  
Don't want to be a richer man  
_Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes_  
(turn and face the strange)  
_Ch-ch-changes  
_Just gonna have to be a different man  
Time may change me  
But I can't trace time

~From the song, "Changes" by David Bowie

****************************************

Chapter 7: Changes

Harry stared transfixed as Malfoy stabbed a chunk of grilled chicken with his fork, raised it to his nose while sniffing suspiciously, and then reluctantly took a bite. It was a ritual that had repeated itself everyday for the past week. He would lift a forkful of food to his nose and inhale hesitantly, before consuming it.

"Do you have to do that?" Harry asked irritably.

"Do what?"

"Sniff your food. It's driving me barking mad."

"I'm _soooo_ sorry, Mister 'The Himalayas-Are-A-Brilliant-Place-To-Hide-Out'. Sniffing food is a Malfoy Family Tradition."

"Not _another_ one," Harry groaned.

Draco predictably and completely ignored him. "It dates back to the time when Great-great-great-great-great-great Uncle Ballard von Bigriffe-Malfoy ate a poisoned leg-of-lamb, which was very stupid of him as everyone could smell the poison at 30 metres." Malfoy sniffed again and took another bite before continuing, "In fact, his very last words to his wife were, 'This is all your fucking AAAAACK!'"

Harry rolled his eyes, but thought the story explained a lot. 

"_So that's where the 'When-All-Else-Fails-Blame-Someone-Else Gene' originated in the Malfoy gene pool,"_ he mused to himself. No doubt Ballard von Whatsits drove his enemies crazy to where they had to kill him in order to preserve their own sanity. _"I'll be stark raving before this is all over," _he thought grimly.

Malfoy continued, oblivious to Harry's tortured inner musings. "We've been sniffing our food ever since and you'd do well to follow my example. After all, we don't know _where_ this chicken has been."

"That chicken was happily roaming Dho Tarap village this morning, you milksop. And I'm tired of hearing you whine. All you ever do is complain, complain, complain. It's _very_ unmanly." 

Draco sighed, once again ignoring Harry's insult, as it was just another one in a long line of insults. "I could do with a good banger," he said dreamily. "Doogy, our house elf, makes the best sausage." He lifted a spoonful of Alu Tama, a Nepalese soup, and sniffed again. "I think I recognize potatoes in here, but Merlin's glass eye! There must be fifteen different spices in this stuff, which, by the way, is producing calluses on my tongue. And I can certainly think of _better_ ways to get tongue calluses," he finished smugly.

"Spare me the details," muttered Harry. He got up to lie down on his pallet, careful not to cross the magical line that separated the cave into two completely equal halves.

It had been the only way to keep from killing each other. He had _his_ side of the cave and Malfoy had the other.

As he crossed his arm over his face to rest after his meal, Harry thought about the events of the past week. 

After the initial shock of suddenly Apparating to Nepal had worn off, Harry had cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and Malfoy and had Apparated with Draco to the village of Dho Tarap. They'd made their way to the outskirts of town, where there was a small wizarding community. Legend had it that the best sherpas came from this village, as the men were known for their strength and stamina in carrying gear up the mountains. 

Of course, what the Muggles didn't realize was that the sherpas used Feather-light spells on the gear, when the mountain trekkers weren't looking.

Harry had come to Nepal in the aftermath of the Final Battle, subsequent to his flight with Hermione from the battle scene. While he knew that he would never completely get over Ron's death, coming alone to Dho Tarap had been very spiritually renewing. 

On this latest trip, Harry and Draco found Chepal the Sherpa putting up prayer wheels next to a new school that had been built in the village. Chepal had been most helpful on Harry's previous visit, and the older wizard had been very clever with the Translating Spell. Chepal had told him that it was a lot easier to use the spell than it was to actually learn English. That first time in Nepal, the sherpa had accompanied Harry up the summit of a particularly magnificent mountain and the two had become fast friends. Chepal had been delighted to be climbing the mountain with a fellow wizard. 

He told Harry that most foreign wizards did not concern themselves with climbing mountains.

When Harry and Draco had appeared in the village that first evening, Chepal had been very surprised to see them, and had graciously put Harry and Draco up for the night before taking them deep into the high valleys of Dolpo. They spent that first evening reminiscing about their trek up the mountain and Harry told Chepal about Draco's current situation. The following morning Chepal showed them an abandoned cave at the foot of an unnamed mountain, which was their current home. 

It was a home that was beginning to feel worse than Azkaban, if Harry was any judge.

Harry closed his eyes to shut out Malfoy and his peculiar eating habits. He relaxed further and let his mind drift to memories of his first visit to the village.

Visiting Dho Tarap was like visiting the past. Out in the tiny terraced fields villagers would thresh the barley with wooden flails while others ploughed the dusty soil with crude, wooden, metal-tipped ploughs dragged by yaks. Children with large wicker baskets on their backs prowled the nearby slopes collecting yak dung, which was then spread out to dry before being used as fuel for fires. It was the only fuel there was in that treeless land. 

At dusk, herds of goats, sheep and yaks would come back from distant grazing grounds. The people, especially the children, were friendly and curious, watching everything Harry did while he was in town. Trekking groups visited Dho regularly so foreigners were not totally unknown. Even so, Harry was clearly of great interest to many of the locals. 

And much to his dismay, he found that he'd caught the eye of many of the local girls, as well. He learned quickly not to look directly at them or he found himself facing the wrath of one irate father or another. It got rather tiresome moving through the village with his head down, eyes pointed resolutely at his feet. Chepal had been most amused by it all, until he noticed his youngest daughter, Dolma, batting her eyelashes at Harry.

Harry took great pains to explain to Chepal that he was currently celibate and would probably be celibate for the rest of his life, if recent history were any indication. Chepal had slyly suggested monkhood, saying that the sanghas of Nepal were revered amongst his people. 

Harry pointed out that the _last_ thing he wanted was to be revered.

And so it was that Harry had come to love Nepal. The friendly, curious people and the mountains gave him a feeling unlike anything that he'd experienced before. For all of his life he'd been hailed as something bigger than he really was, yet the mountains told the ultimate truth: He was rather small and insignificant.

And he liked it that way. 

He could hear Malfoy chattering away in the distance, but Harry was becoming more and more relaxed. Finally, as he felt himself drifting off to sleep, a loud voice rudely interrupted him. 

"Potter! Are you even listening to me?"

Harry opened one eye to see Malfoy's annoyed face peering at him from across the Great Divide. Suddenly something broke inside of him and he bolted straight up, startling the blonde wizard.

"I don't think I can do this," Harry said tersely.

"What this?" asked Malfoy.

"_This_, this, you damned fool!" Harry shouted, gesturing around the cave. He pointed to the magical line. " And THIS!" I feel like an idiot! All we do is bicker and fight and it's over the _stupidest_ stuff! Aren't you ever tired of fighting? It's exhausting! And why? Why are we _really_ fighting?" 

He got up and began to pace with agitation. "I'll tell you why," he said quietly. "It's because of Ginny Weasley."

Draco's face froze in surprise. They'd never spoken of her before. 

Harry let out a sudden snarl. "I get it already! She loves you. You love her. So why don't you leave me the fuck alone?"

The sullen words echoed inside the cave. Malfoy raised an eyebrow before answering quietly. "I'd gladly leave you alone, but seeing as we have to share a bloody cave in bloody Nepal, that's a bit difficult. And this is _not_ about Ginny," he added. "I honestly don't like you."

Harry stared at him for a moment before he began laughing. Malfoy looked at him dubiously, as Harry continued to laugh hysterically. After a bit, Draco actually started worrying for Potter's sanity.

"That's enough, Potter. It wasn't that funny."

Harry's laughter had been reduced to uneven stuttering and eventually he had to concede the point. "Maybe not, but it's the most honest thing you've said all week." He walked over the Magical Line and muttered a Vanishing spell, making the line disappear.

"If we're going to survive this, we're going to have to come to some sort of understanding, otherwise I may have to kill you in your sleep. Of course, half the wizarding world would hunt me down, while the other half would cheer my actions."

Draco smirked. "A good monarch has many friends and just as many enemies," he remarked.

"Whatever, Malfoy. In fact, that's what I'm going to say to every ridiculous thing you utter. Whatever. I have a feeling that I'll be saying that a lot. And maybe if we keep saying it, we'll stop insulting each other."

"Whatever," muttered Draco, trying it out. He made a face. "It's a distressingly American use of the word, but you're right. This can't go on. I'm so pissed off at you that it's beginning to affect my digestion. I've been burping for days now. Yeah, yeah, I know, Potter." He waved his hand at Harry. "Whatever."

Harry grinned. "This might work after all. How silly is _that_?"

Draco grinned back. "I'd say it's pretty ridiculous. And you know what I think the real problem is here? We're bored."

Harry thought about this for a moment before he nodded. "I do believe you're right, Malfoy. We're bored out of our skulls. I _really_ wish I knew what Snape had in store for us. And communicating through crystal balls is a giant pain. Every time I ask him what happens next, he holds up a cue card saying, 'In due time, Potter. In due time.' I think I want to murder him as much as I want to murder you. Ooops. Sorry . . . 

"Whatever," Harry and Draco said in unison.

"It's amazing how much of our conversation is spent in insulting each other," observed Draco. "Perhaps it is _indeed_ a colossal waste of time. The question is, what should we do to fill our time, now that we've pledged to hold back on the insults?"

Harry's face broke out into a brilliant smile.

"I don't know if I like the looks of that," began Draco.

"We duel, Malfoy."

"I beg your pardon?

"You heard me, you . . . sorry. What I _meant_ to say was that we need to practice our dueling. We haven't had to do that since I kicked your arse second year."

"Whatever," pouted Malfoy.

"That doesn't count," answered Harry. "That was not an insult, it was the truth!"

"You did _not_ kick my arse, it was a draw!"

Harry decided that since it was so important to Malfoy's ego that he believe that, he left it alone. He decided it was his first magnanimous step in finding a way to get along.

"Alright, Malfoy. It was a draw. And you're missing the point. We haven't dueled together in over ten years. I think it's important that we bring our skills up to speed. In fact, I don't know why I didn't think of it before."

"Perhaps it's because you're a . . . . erm, sorry." Harry glared at him. "Hey! I'm trying here," said Draco defensively.

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket. "Maybe we ought to do this outside."

"Like nobody around here would notice two pale white boys dueling at the foot of a great mountain," said Draco sarcastically.

"Well, we can't do it inside, that's for sure. I can imagine the state of the cave after we finished hurling hexes and curses at each other. And I hate to say it, but you're right, Malfoy. We can't risk drawing attention to ourselves." He took note of the look on Draco's face. "And stop preening, you won't hear me say it often." 

Draco drew his wand as well. "I suppose we'll just have to use a Concealment Charm."

Harry nodded and began walking out the cave entrance, but Draco put a hand on his shoulder to drive him back.

"His Royal Highness _always_ leads the way," he said with snotty conviction. "You're to follow a minimum of five paces behind me."

Harry stared at Malfoy as if he'd completely lost his grip on reality. He quickly found his voice.

"First . . . you're _not_ the Prince yet, so don't get all full of yourself on me. Second . . . don't _ever_ touch me again without permission."

Malfoy had the audacity to smirk at him. 

"AND THIRD . . . _WHATEVER, _YOU PIDDLIN', BRAINLESS SON OF A HAIRY DICKWAD!"

Draco's hoots of laughter were heard echoing off the cave walls.

"You're _so_ predictable, Potter," he wheezed as he finally caught his breath.

Harry allowed himself a small smile and a shake of the head.

"So are you, Malfoy. So are you."

"Whatever."

*****************************************

It was early evening back at Snape Manor and Hermione and Severus were getting ready to sit down to their supper. It had become their usual custom to bring out their formal dinnerware on those occasions when they were working feverishly on some project or another. It forced them to relax and enjoy their food, instead of quickly gulping things down before going back to work. 

They'd discovered that such a slow-down was essential for their mental health, as they both had a tendency towards the obsessive when it came to their work. That would certainly have to change once the baby was born.

As Severus unfolded the napkin onto his lap, he asked casually, "So, are you having any more luck with the counter-spell to the Antequam Eructo? Malfoy and Potter are counting on you." 

Hermione shook her head. "I'm still trying to figure out what magical changes cause the spell to be delayed," she said in exasperation. "What is so damned hard about it? It's just an Avada Kedavra, with a twist. The key is in the delay, but I just don't know how that's done!"

Severus looked sympathetic with regard to her frustration. They'd been through this many times when they were developing the Soul Shattering Potion.

"At this rate, it is going to take forever," she said forlornly.

"We don't have forever, my dear," said Severus. "You'll have to figure something out soon before they do serious bodily harm to each other."

"Or fall madly in love."

Severus stared at her aghast. "You _can't_ be serious." He shook his head. "No, of course you're not."

"Of course I am. And don't call me Sirius." Severus sneered at her, but she was used to his sneers, so she resolutely continued. "Couldn't you just see them in their little cave? Hanging animal skins over the cave entrance . . . gathering yak dung for the fire . . . cuddling up together at night." She was really warming up to the subject matter. 

"Crooning love songs to each other . . . "

Severus threw down his serviette in disgust. "Honest to Nimue, Hermione, I think pregnancy is making you batty! And thanks for that last bit of mental imagery . . I shan't get _any_ sleep tonight. "

Hermione gave him a wide, faux-innocent smile. She was quite enjoying her husband's discomfort.

"Oh, there are _some_ out there who think they'd make a beautiful couple. Think of it, Severus. They're _always_ fighting, bickering back and forth. They're _always_ trying to get a rise out of each other—"

"Gah," exclaimed Severus. "Do you mind? Don't say the word 'rise' in the same sentence as those two. I'm trying to eat."

"All that sexual tension—"

"For Merlin's sake!" he roared. Then he caught a glimpse at her laughing face.

"Oh," he said quietly. "I get it. This is an attempt to distract me from the fact that you're having **no** luck whatsoever in breaking the Antequam Eructo Spell." He gave her a superior smirk. "Two can play this game, Hermione."

"Oh really?" 

He leaned over and whispered seductively, "Can you imagine the songs they'd sing to each other, when nobody was listening?"

"Like what?" asked Hermioine, intrigued.

"How about, 'Fifty Ways to Hex Your Lover," answered Severus, with certainty. 

Hermione giggled. "How about, 'Stupefy My Love'?"

Severus snorted with amusement. " How about 'You Don't Bring Me Howlers Anymore'."

"Erm . . . In the Arms of a Niffler."

Severus raised his eyebrow at her. "Nifflers don't have arms."

"Oh, yeah, right . . . Erm . . . Erm . . . I know! 'And They Call It Faerie Love'."

"Good one," Severus murmured. "Let's see . . . how about, 'Pretty Seeker'?" 

Hermione was quite hysterical by now. "You're much too good at this." She leaned across the table, meeting him halfway to give him a passionate kiss. "And thanks for trying to distract me from my project. It's just making me crazy at this point."

"Glad to be of service, my love. And if you tell anyone about this conversation, I'll make sure you regret it," he said, in semi-mock severity. "After all, I have a nasty reputation to uphold." He managed to look slightly aggrieved. "Just remember . . . Severus Snape does **not** know anything about 70's Muggle Music!"

"Yes dear," she answered placidly. _Wait 'til Ginny hears about this._

She thought it best to change the subject. "So, have the arrangements been made for Harry and Draco's little surprise?"

Severus looked very pleased. "Yes, the 'surprise' should be arriving shortly. Oh to see their scruffy little faces when they get a load of what I've sent them." His smile was that of pure satisfaction.

"Poor boys," murmured Hermione. Bringing her attention back to her plate of stew, she was quite startled at what happened next:

Her plate changed into a bowl of what appeared to be chocolate fudge ice cream.

"What the hell?"

Severus looked over at her bowl and frowned. "Your sweet tooth appears to be getting the better of you, Hermione."

"But I didn't do it!" she protested. She waved her wand at the bowl, turning it back into the plate of stew. It immediately turned back into the bowl of ice cream.

"That is just the weirdest thing I've ever seen." She tried changing it back again, only to find herself staring into the same bowl of ice cream. A look of enlightenment came to her face.

"Oh . . . that little imp!" She rubbed her belly and admonished, "You change that back this instant, Arddun Snape!" 

Severus looked at her quizzically. "You don't think that our daughter . . . no . . . it couldn't be."

Hermione made one more attempt to change the bowl of ice cream back into the plate of stew. Again, it immediately changed back into ice cream.

Severus groaned. "Oh for the love of Merlin! This is all we need . . . "

Hermione started laughing. "I think we're in for it now, Severus. I remember learning in university that it's possible for very powerful witches and wizards to do magic from the womb. It's extremely rare, but possible."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and for the first time, it wasn't Malfoy or Longbottom who caused the gesture. "I'm never going to survive, if this is what I have to look forward to."

"Welcome to fatherhood, Severus."

*******************************

Harry and Draco stood outside their cave entrance and Malfoy stood impassively while Harry cast the Concealment charm. The sun glinted off the brilliant white snow and Harry made sure to also cast an Obliteration charm to hide their tracks, as well.

They cautiously approached each other, wands drawn so that they were exposed to the gaze of the other. In unison, they brought their wands to their chests and promptly brought them down to their sides. Then they turned and marched ten paces from each other before adopting the "en garde" position.

"Scared Potter?" Draco couldn't resist.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You wish," he predictably answered.

"On the count of three . . . one--"

In that instant, Malfoy cast a Fur Spell and Harry sprouted thick, black fur all over his body. He looked like a giant, unkempt Blood-Sucking Bugbear . . . with wire-rimmed glasses. Draco hooted in triumph. "I think we studied your species in Hagrid's class," he called out. 

"Very funny, Malfoy. Avis!" Harry shouted. Immediately, a flock of twittering birds began flying around Draco's head and while he was batting at them distractedly, Harry cast a Blasting Curse, blowing Draco to the ground.

"Finite Incantatum," Harry muttered, pointing his wand at himself. Before he could fully recover however, Draco crawled to his own wand and pointed it at Harry yelling "Furnunculus!"

"Ow! Ow!" shouted Harry, as boils erupted on his body. "You'll pay for that, you bloody bastard!"

"Whatever!" yelled Malfoy, in obvious delight. Harry cast a Jelly-Leg Jinx, which Draco easily deflected.

"I'd say your skills are rather . . . " before Draco could finish the sentence, Harry pointed his wand at Draco's groin and shouted, "Reducio!"

Draco looked down in horror and pointed his wand between his legs. "Engorgio! Engorgio! Oh SHITE!"

Harry was howling with laughter. He quickly cast the Finite Incantatum on himself, and Malfoy gave a menacing snarl. "You're going to rue the day you were born!" He advanced on Harry.

Suddenly a loud, booming voice interrupted them. "Impedimenta!" it yelled and Draco and Harry were immediately thrown into slow motion. Malfoy was so startled that he tripped over his feet and went flying through the air in a good imitation of a dawdling bird. It seemed to take forever for him to land.

Draco began struggling to his feet. By now, the Royal Weenie was beginning to strain and it was causing him great discomfort. He looked at the person who had dared to interrupt the duel.

His first thought was that it was Flitwick's very ugly twin sister. Then he noticed the salt and pepper beard. It was obviously a little wizard, in dark green velvet robes and an immense black pointy hat. 

Draco said the first thing that popped into his mind. "How _dare_ you strike the Royal Heir! Guards, seize him!"

Harry just stared at Draco. "You've lost your bleeding marbles," he remarked.

The little wizard clapped his hands with glee. "Oh wonderful! Wonderful! You've been doing your homework! Good work, Potter! I'll take over from here!"

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Good work? GOOD WORK? But . . . but he's tampered with the Royal Bits!" he complained.

The interloping wizard pointed his wand at Draco's crotch. "Finite Incantatum," he murmured. "And all is fair in love and war, my boy."

"Just who the hell are you? And how is that you can see us?" Draco asked haughtily. "Did somebody send you?"

The diminutive wizard gave him an enigmatic smile. "I thought that would have been obvious. You have much to learn, Majesty. The fun and games are now officially over."

He gave Draco a formal bow as he introduced himself.

"Eldorf of Gwynedd, at His Majesty's service." 

"OH, SHITE! "

"The Prince of Avalon does _not _say, 'shite'!" Eldorf admonished Draco harshly, whacking him with his wand. Because of his size, the wand caught Malfoy squarely on his kneecap. "It is _most_ unbecoming!"

"DOUBLE SHITE, THEN!"

Harry shook his head in wonder as Draco clutched his knee, hopping up and down. This was going to be entertaining, to say the least.

**********************************

Author's Note: I was very anxious to get this uploaded, as it's been so long since my update. Therefore, this version is un-beta'ed. I hope there are no glaring mistakes, but if there are, I'll deal with them later. And sorry there's no Draco/Ginny in this chapter, but I promise to bring them together soon. (Poor Harry!)

Thanks for your reviews! I really appreciate the feedback.


	9. Chapter 8: Pleasures

Come live with me and be my love  
And we will some new pleasures prove  
Of golden sands and crystal brooks,  
With silken lines and silver hooks.

There will the river-whispering run  
Warmed by thy eyes more than the sun  
And there th' enamoured fish will stray,  
Begging themselves they may betray.  
When thou wilt swim in that live bath,  
Each fish, with every channel hath.  
Will amorously to thee swim.  
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

From the poem, "The Bait" by John Donne

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Chapter 8: Pleasures

The sun was beginning to set behind the mountain, but two figures were clearly visible by a large snowbank several yards from the cave entrance. One figure was clad in traditional sherpa clothing, including a fleece lined hat, complete with ear-flaps. The second figure was somewhat harder to make out as the taller man was hovering over it, patting at its little rounded belly.

Finally, Draco Malfoy stepped away from the tiny snowman he was making. He paused to admire his work before pointing a threatening wand at its forehead.

"I'm bloody sick of you bossing me around," he hissed at the snowman. It looked suspiciously like a certain little wizard, especially since it was sporting a yak-hair beard and a pointy snow hat. Draco prowled around it, poking at it repeatedly with his finger.

"Yes Master Eldorf . . . if you please, Master Eldorf," he snarled. Then his voice rose to a squeaky falsetto, "The Prince of Avalon will have read Sun Tzu's "The Art of War" by six o-clock tomorrow evening. The Prince of Avalon _must_ have more than a rudimentary grasp of geopolitics. The Prince of Avalon does _not_ say 'wanker,' " . . .

Draco poised his wand right at Eldorf of Snowman's head and shouted, "WANKER! Wanker, wanker, wanker, wanker! What are you going to do to me, Eldorf? Demote me to _Earl_ of Avalon?"

He bent down and spoke softly in "Eldorf's" potato ear: "If you don't let up on me, I'm announcing to the press that I'm giving up the monarchy to pursue a gay relationship with Mad-Eye Moody."

Eldorf of Snowman just stared blankly at Draco with his coal eyes, so Malfoy let him have it with a Blasting Curse. Eldorf Snow flew in every direction, even managing to splatter Draco in the process. He gave a crazed, triumphant yell and dramatically dropped to his knees, arms raised.

"That's what you get for your abuse, Eldorf of Gwynedd!" he shouted to the sky. "The Prince of Avalon is All Powerful, All Knowing and All Malevolent! Bwahahahaha!"

"I think the word is supposed to be 'benevolent', not 'malevolent'," said a quiet voice behind him.

Draco struggled to his feet to see Harry looking at him in amusement.

"You have your motto and I have mine," snarled Draco.

Harry crossed his arms and leaned against the steep wall of the mountain as he thoughtfully contemplated his Partner in Misery.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to crack," remarked Harry, finally. "Somehow, I thought you'd last for more than two hours, though."

Draco pouted. "Two hours of sheer, living hell, you mean," he growled. "That bastard popped my eyeballs out of their sockets and made them roll on the floor! I mean, who would _do _such a horrible thing? Besides Voldemort, that is."

Harry tried very hard not to laugh. "Well, to be fair, he did say that if you rolled your eyes at him one more time, they'd be rolling across the cave floor," he pointed out. "You really pushed it on that one, Malfoy. But you're right . . . the little tosser _does_ seem slightly fanatical."

"Slightly? You call that just _slightly_ fanatical? He has a mad gleam to his beady little eyes."

Harry sighed as he conjured a small bench and sat down. "Yeah, so he's a right nutter. What the hell was Snape thinking?"

"I dunno, but I can tell you one thing, Potter. I've got to get away. And right _now_, while Eldorf of Evil is taking a nap. If I spend one more minute cooped up in this cave or on this mountain, I'm going to go down to the Valley and do something awful, like massacre the village chickens or play spin-the-bottle with all the vestal virgins. Anything to have some fun!"

Harry shook his head in exasperation. Only Malfoy would think that a murderous rampage against chickens would be "fun". The vestal virgin thing _could_ be amusing, though . . .

He rubbed his neck casually, in an effort to refocus." You heard what Eldorf said, Malfoy. The fun is over. You've got to prepare yourself for the monarchy," reasoned Harry.

"I've got plenty of time for that! Right now I'm knackered and I miss Ginny. I'm bored and I'm horny and I'm . . ." He took note of the grimace on Harry's face. "Erm, too much information?"

Harry's body had tensed at the mention of Ginny Weasley, but he chose to ignore it, as well as Malfoy's comments.

Draco didn't seem to notice as he'd suddenly thought of something. "Saaaaay . . . didn't you bring your Invisibility Cloak when we left England?"

Harry got up and slowly started backing away from Malfoy. "Oh no . . . not this time. You're not talking me into anything I'll regret . . . "

"Oh, pish! You can't tell me that you don't want to get out of here as much as I do."

"Well yes, that's true. But what are you thinking? You don't want me following you around any more than I want to follow you around. And I'm not letting you far from my sight." He paused before he added smugly, "That would be a dereliction of duty."

_"Well, you certainly are a derelict_," thought Draco, but he knew better than to say that out loud. So he vehemently shook his head. "No, I want to go alone. I promise I won't stray far and I'll be back by midnight before I change into a turnip."

"Pumpkin! You'll change into a pumpkin," muttered Harry

Draco just plowed ahead. "Look, you can do whatever you want. I know you want a break from me as much as I want one from you. And besides, if I'm discovered, _I'm_ the one who dies, not you. You'll be rid of me for good."

Harry considered this. "Well, since you put it _that_ way . . . "

Malfoy resisted a telltale smirk. _"I'll be out of here in a matter of minutes,"_ he thought gleefully.

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Draco ducked his head as he moved through the village, his long brown hair whipping through the wind.

_"I look damned ridiculous,"_ he thought. _"This is all Wanker's fault, once again."_

To the casual observer, Draco appeared as a dark-skinned girl with almond-shaped eyes, but upon closer inspection, it could be noted that he . . . er, _she_ walked with a decided butchness to her stride.

There was nothing ladylike or demure to his step, but Draco didn't notice as he was more distracted by the amorous glances coming his way from the boys in the village.

_"Merlin's pink painted toenails,"_ he thought scornfully. _"I'm bloody glad I'm not a girl. This is revolting! I'm beginning to regret not going with the Invisibility Cloak."_

Actually, Harry had talked Draco out of the Invisibility Cloak, but was surprisingly helpful at coming up with an alternate plan. In fact, Potter drew upon his vast experience from years of sneaking around Hogwarts.

_"The bugger is pretty good at this,"_ Draco had thought at the time. _"I should have had a mental breakdown sooner."_

Little did he know that he'd soon be sporting a dress.

Of course, before helping him, Potter had finagled an agreement by which, when the time came, Malfoy was to return Harry's favor by granting him any wish he wanted.

Within reason, of course.

Initially, Draco had no intention of granting Potter any favors, but the dark-haired wizard had produced an elaborate contract stating that if Draco did not abide by the terms of the agreement, Harry had permission to literally hex his balls off.

"No signy, no freedom," Harry had said simply. "And if you break the agreement, you'll be a girl permanently."

And Draco, liking the Malfoy Jewels just the way they were- thank you very much- signed the damned thing. That's how desperate he was to escape.

"Any wish you want, huh?" muttered Draco. "Do I look like a genie?"

"No, you look like a contract-breaking Slytherin, so I'm just covering all the angles."

"Hmmm. I don't recall you being so smart." Then Draco remembered that they were fleeing Eldorf of Dictator and felt a renewed eagerness for the plan. "So what do you have in mind?"

The next thing he knew, he was drinking down some Polyjuice that Harry had stashed in a little box and when it was all said and done, he looked like Chepal's youngest daughter, Dolma.

Draco peered at himself in a hand mirror. "At least I'm rather pretty," he sniffed. "Where did you get that stuff?"

"Chepal and I decided that it would be a good idea for me to have what he called a 'Disguise Kit'. Just in case we needed to hide our identities even further while we're here."

"Clever," murmured Draco.

And so it was that he found himself walking into the village looking like every sherpa's dream of a wife. While the males were not allowed to touch the village girls in public, this rule apparently did not extend to outright leering.

Draco felt like a juicy piece of goat steak, all laid out at the marketplace. He tried glaring at the boys, but this seemed to enflame them even further, so he finally just gave up.

Dusk was beginning to fall upon the town, leaving a cold chill in the air, but the village of Dho Tarap had come alive with the celebration of Buddha Jayanti. There were great crowds of people wandering the various sites in town.

Draco remembered reading that Nepal was the "Land of Festivals" and knew that the Nepalese people seemed to have one at least every other week. They celebrated their various gods and various religious beliefs, and there certainly didn't seem to be much else to do in the middle of a mountain town at the foot of the vast Himalayas.

Draco suspected that it was just an excuse to party.

This week, it was Buddha Jayanti, which was the celebration of the day that the Buddha attained Nirvana or salvation. It was also the date of his birth and his death, as well.

_"How convenient for the Buddha to do everything on one day,"_ thought Draco.

The first night Draco and Harry had spent with Chepal, the sherpa had regaled them with stories of the Prince Siddhartha, who had been the only son of a royal family. The old sherpa had paused to look at Draco speculatively before continuing with the story and Draco had found himself entranced at the tale of a young prince who had given everything up to become a great spiritual teacher.

According to Chepal, the prince's father had isolated Siddhartha in the royal palace, giving him all the pleasures a man could desire, hiding him from the world of suffering. One day Siddhartha ventured outside the castle walls and saw for the first time a beggar, a sick person, a corpse and a holy man. The encounters affected him deeply, awakening a desire to find the ultimate cause of suffering and the way to end it.

Draco had gaped open-mouthed at Chepal by the end of the story.

"Let me get this straight. You mean he gave up all those riches and all those beautiful women to find out why people _suffered_?" Draco had asked incredulously. "That's easy. People suffer because most members of mankind are stupid gits," he said, with certainty. "No need to give up a perfectly good royal orgy to figure that one out!" Harry had only rolled his eyes and snorted.

Draco thought about the story as he moved through the crowd of villagers around the Grand Stupa in the middle of the town. The stupa was a solid hemispherical mound of stones with a square base at the top. The square top supported a series of thirteen circular rings narrowed towards the top, and was crowned by a parasol. The four sides of the square base were painted with pairs of eyes. Draco remembered Chepal telling them that the eyes represent the eyes of Buddha.

The stupa was covered with prayer flags and surrounded by Buddhist monks dressed in flowing burgundy robes. Thousands upon thousands of butterlamps had been lit, which leant a heavenly glow to the statue of the Great Teacher, which was located on the upper terrace of the stupa. People were so distracted with chanting at the various statues that nobody even looked his way, which was a great relief.

Draco was so busy watching the villagers that he didn't notice when a tall man quietly made his way next to him. Draco looked at him briefly and abruptly did a double take.

The man was tall, white and decidedly Anglo.

Draco stared at him in befuddled confusion. Of all the people on Earth, Neville Longbottom was standing next to him, in a remote village, deep in the Himalayas. Draco closed his eyes, mentally counted to three and then opened them again.

Longbottom was still standing there.

"Malfoy!" Neville said in a harsh whisper. "I have an urgent message from your uncle. We must find a place to talk."

"How the hell did you know it was me?" Draco hissed. Neville raised an eyebrow and pointed to the Malfoy crest on the ring finger of Draco's right hand.

"If you wanted to disguise yourself, the least you could have done is taken off your ring. Didn't you learn anything as a Death Eater?" Draco was taken aback by the superior tone in Longbottom's voice.

Draco's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why didn't Uncle Severus come himself? And why didn't he send somebody more appropriate? Shouldn't you be cuddling with your Venus Flytrap or something?"

Before he could continue with his questions, Neville suddenly grabbed Draco-Dolma around the waist and dragged him-her to the backside of one of the nearby rectangular houses in the village. Draco was so stunned that he didn't even fight him off. And then it hit him.

This wasn't Neville Longbottom at all. This was The Enemy, who had finally found him.

_I'm going to die._

And it wasn't even going to be at the hands of a Death Eater or a member of a violent revolutionary group. He was going to die at the hands of somebody who looked like a member of the Vienna Boys Choir.

_Bloody hell!_

But what startled Draco even further was when Neville pushed him up against the wall of the house and rubbed his body down Draco's female form. He lowered his head and licked Draco-Dolma on the neck, right below his earlobe, which was one of his most erogenous zones.

Draco began to squirm, trying to push Neville away. "Look ol' boy," he murmured. "I know you likely harbor an overwhelming lust for me, which is quite understandable, but I must say that I don't swing that way. Girl body, or no girl body."

Neville just raised his head and looked at him in bemusement. And then his features began to shift. Draco stared at Longbottom in surprise as Neville's body began to shrink and his short brown hair became longer.

And redder.

Draco held himself very still as he reached down to his pocket for his wand. One way or another, "Neville" was going to reveal himself and Draco planned on being ready.

Neville's round face soon transformed into a very familiar and beloved heart-shaped one and suddenly Draco found himself staring into the rich brown eyes of Ginny Weasley.

"Surprise!" she said breathily.

Draco's emotions immediately changed from stark fear to intense arousal all in two seconds. The mental adjustment almost made him feel faint.

"Ginny! Oh gods! I can't believe this!"

He reached to kiss her, but Ginny pushed him back with a giggle. "You know I love you Draco, but I'm not kissing you in your condition. We'd look like a every wizard's version of a lesbian fantasy."

_"Damn!"_ thought Draco. He pulled out his pocket watch and was half horrified, half gratified to see that the Polyjuice Potion had about one minute to expire. He'd been so distracted by the festival, he completely forgotten to keep track of the time, so Ginny's intervention had been fortuitous indeed.

The little witch had an impeccable sense of timing, as she'd already proven by saving him from his father after The Final Battle.

"Give me a minute," he said quietly, as she fixed her eyes squarely on his face. Soon, his body began to lengthen and his features changed back into the beautiful boy he knew he really was.

Before Ginny could comment, he pulled her against his body once again and crushed her lips to his in a fiery kiss. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck and her body seemed to fuse with his. His kiss deepened, parting her soft, supple lips. The pleasure of it completely filled his senses and he was loath to ever move away from her again. So he continued nibbling and licking and biting gently.

Ginny made soft purring noises that nearly drove him crazy.

This went on for several charged minutes before he broke the kiss with a moan and whispered, "How? When?" Ginny just put her fingertip to his lips and said, "Later."

Draco lifted her hand to brush his mouth against her palm. "Let's get out of here," he said. "I know just the place where we can have some privacy."

Ginny gave him a dazzling smile. "Lead on, love. And Draco?"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"You might want to change out of that dress, first."

"Ah bugger!"

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Harry, in the meantime, was quite enjoying his solitude. In truth, he'd always been more of an internal creature, but friendship with Ron and Hermione had brought him out of his shell more than anything . . . with the exception of Draco and Voldemort, of course. These days, he enjoyed spending time in his own head, which was a novel thing. For far too long the Dark Lord had invaded his space, but now Tom Riddle was gone forever and for the most part, Harry felt a calming sense of peace.

Once he'd dispatched Draco to whatever adventure his girlie form would take him, he draped his Invisibility Cloak around his body and headed for the nearest body of water. He mentally chastised himself only once for letting Draco get away on his own, but then realized that the little dobber could certainly take care of himself. He'd proven that on more than one occasion.

Harry headed for a gorge that ran alongside their mountain home. The narrowness of the pass actually made for some exciting walking, with sections of trail carved straight up steep cliffs or else traversing skimpy sloping ledges. In some places, these airy rocky walkways vanished altogether, leaving gaps the local pathmakers had bridged with thin poles, some of which look frighteningly old and rotten, and then overlaid with flat slabs of rock.

He finally made his way to the banks of the Bheri River, which was a perfect place to cast his fishing line.

Harry chuckled to himself. He'd never been fishing in his life before coming to Dho Tarap, but he'd spent some time at the river with Chepal and found his nature suited to the solitary activity. He thought about Ron and how he would have loved sharing the experience with his best friend. Somehow, he knew that Ron would have enjoyed it as much as he did.

The ice cold water of the Bheri was deep and strong, and Harry found a nice flat rock by the bank. He sat down gingerly and grabbing his fishing pole, he cast his line to the middle of the river, hoping for mahseer. This particular fish was drawn to artificial bait and Harry had conjured a beautiful, traditional four-inch silver spoon, which he'd tied to the end of his line.

He spared a brief thought for Sirius, wondering how his godfather was doing. Harry had been neglectful recently, and for the first time since coming to Nepal, he really missed the older wizard. Sirius was loyal and true, but when it came to love, he was completely hopeless and right now, love was what was foremost on Harry's mind.

Or should he say, his most deserved lack of a love life. It was the one thing that he'd gotten completely wrong in his life . . . the one missing piece to the puzzle of his happiness. And if Harry was going to be honest with himself, he knew that no matter what happened between Ginny and Malfoy, his romance with her was irrevocably broken. She would never have him again, he was quite certain of that.

Giving an audible sigh, he settled himself into a nice lazy posture and waited for the line to wiggle. After about ten minutes of trying to find just the right area to place his line, he felt the familiar thrill of a fish tugging on the spoon, so he jerked and lifted the fish up to the bank. It flopped wildly and Harry caught it easily on its third hop.

The fish wriggled and squirmed in his hand, but Harry blinked when he looked at the fish closely.

It appeared to have a little pointy hat on its little fishy head.

In a quick flash, Harry thought of a Muggle book he'd read at school when he'd been a small child: One Fish ,Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, by Dr. Seuss. That book had been filled with pictures of colourful fish doing crazy things such as driving around in little autos. This fish looked exactly like something out of that book.

Before he could ponder upon this further, the fish transformed and Eldorf the Very- Angry-Looking- Little- Elf- Wizard of Gwynedd was standing before him, arms akimbo and tapping his tiny boot.

Harry just blurted out, "It wasn't my idea, it was his and well, I couldn't keep him here, he was determined to leave and I tried to talk him out of it, well, not very hard because he's an exasperating little blighter but . . ."

Eldorf completely floored him when his glare transformed and he let out a loud guffaw.

"I was wondering how long his Lordship would last!" he said, when his laughter subsided. "He almost has the record, although Prince Miasmus Mingo III only lasted thirty-six minutes, according to official royal documents. Of course, he was a total failure as a monarch and was beheaded before he could inflict further damage upon the populace. I _do_ hope that doesn't happen to Lord Malfoy."

Harry just shook his head. "_Another weirdo for the Royal Cause_," he thought savagely.

As if reading his thoughts, Eldorf said, "I know you both think me mad, but there is reason to my methods. The House of Gwynedd has been serving the Royal Family for seventeen generations and we've found that if we push the royal heir to his limit, we get an idea of just how far he's willing to go to get his way. Lord Malfoy performed admirably.

Harry regarded him harshly. "Lord Malfoy was contemplating killing chickens. I don't see how pushing a wizard off his chump is going to help him to rule!"

Eldorf looked at him thoughtfully. "You're defending him now. _Very_ interesting in light of your past history."

Harry folded his arms against his chest in an unconscious defensive gesture. "I'm not defending him. I suppose I'm just an advocate for basic human rights."

Eldorf raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," he said sarcastically. He walked over to the rock where Harry was sitting and seated himself next to the much larger wizard. His little feet were left dangling over the edge of the boulder. They were quiet for a few moments before Harry finally asked, "Why did you turn into a fish? Why not just show yourself to me without resorting to such cheap trickery? It's not like I was a threat to you or anything."

"Cheap trickery?" snorted Eldorf. "The Gwynedds are legendary for their ability to transform into just about any creature imaginable. Such stealth has been used to faithfully serve the interests of the Royal Family for generations. I was just practicing, so to speak. Now that we have a real Prince coming into power, I must be prepared to protect him any way I can. My role is not only as mentor, but protector, as well." He looked at Harry with amusement. "Not unlike your role with Lord Malfoy."

Harry shook his head. "I'm only in it for the money." Eldorf just smirked at him so Harry told him the truth. "Actually, I'm doing this because I was asked to do it by someone whose opinion I highly value. Plus, and don't you dare ever say this to Malfoy, but I _do_ want him to succeed. Merlin knows that we need a strong leader. Somehow, I don't see him letting anyone get the better of him. He's too damned stubborn."

Eldorf nodded his head enthusiastically. "I'm so happy to hear you say that, Mr. Potter. He admires you, you know."

Harry stared at him in complete shock. "You _must_ be kidding. He hates my fuckin' guts."

"Oh no, he doesn't hate you at all. I can tell by the way that he interacts with you. I'd say deep down, he wishes to be a friend of sorts. And he desperately wants your approval. Of course, he'd rather cut off his left testicle than to admit it."

Harry suppressed his surprise at hearing Eldorf of Gwynedd saying the word, "testicle". But he was silent upon the remark, deciding that it best he not think about Malfoy's real motivations too closely. But little Eldorf just droned on. "And it's remarkable that he can even speak to you in a civil manner, considering your history with Ms. Weasley."

Harry flushed. "What do you know about Ginny Weasley?" he asked suspiciously.

"I know that Lord Malfoy is deeply in love with her, and that she's a very sweet girl. And I also know that you, Harry Potter, were her first lover. And knowing that, it makes me rather sad that his Lordship will never get what he truly wants with regard to Ms. Weasley."

"And that would be?" Harry couldn't resist his curiosity.

"Marriage," said Eldorf firmly. "As much as Lord Malfoy loves Ginny Weasley, she can never be his wife. The best she can hope for is to be his mistress. A very beloved mistress, but just a mistress nonetheless."

Harry stared in disbelief at the little wizard. "But, but . . . why?"

"The Ancient Houses would never accept a woman to be queen who'd been with another man. The Princess of Avalon is to be untouched before she marries the Prince."

Harry was incredulous at what he was hearing. Knowing both Ginny and Draco, this revelation was going to be devastating.

And for once, Harry felt very sorry for Draco Malfoy because deep down he knew:

Ginny Weasley would never consent to becoming _anyone's_ mistress.

Not even to the man with whom she was deeply in love.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

By the time Ginny and Draco made it to a small clearing in the forest, the sun had completely set and the full moon of May's Buddha Jayanti was shining brightly upon them as they lay on a soft, conjured blanket. A warming charm had been applied and very little was said between them as they shed their clothes and lay together, limbs entwined and caressing. Ginny lifted her body and straddled Draco's hips as he looked up at her, his face shining with a combination of love, lust, adoration and deep longing.

The pleasure was almost more than they could both bear.

She reached down and kissed him passionately and his lips made a trail to her left ear. Breathing deeply, he pushed his body forward, until he was completely sheathed within her.

"I love you," he murmured quietly. "I love you so much that I don't ever want to be away from you again. Please say that you'll marry me."

Ginny closed her eyes at hearing the thing she wanted most in this world.

"Yes," she said, as she began to move with him. "Yes!" She arched her back as his hands gently spanned her hips. Her hair was draping forward in a deep crimson cascade and her skin glowed as she looked at him seductively. Draco had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Of course I'll marry you, Draco Malfoy."

They made love joyfully, and reveled in the bright future ahead of them.

_To be continued . . ._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Author's Note: I want to thank everyone for the nice reviews. They really make me happy! I hope you all enjoy this and I'd also like to thank my beta, Elizabeth, who is very good at pointing out those things that don't make sense! Thanks E!

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I won't take so long with my next chapter. The story is all laid out in my head . . . now to put it to paper!


	10. Chapter 9: Illusion

Breathe deep the gathering gloom  
Watch lights fade from every room  
Bedsetter people look back and lament  
Another day's useless energy's spent  
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one  
Lonely man cries for love and has none  
New mother picks up and suckles her son  
Senior citizens wish they were young  
Cold-hearted orb that rules the night  
Removes the colors from our sight  
Red is grey and yellow white  
And we decide which is right  
And which is an illusion

Epilogue from the song, "Nights in White Satin," by The Moody Blues

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Chapter 9: Illusion

It was a strange time of year in northern England . . . it was early June, and the daylight hours were dominated by balmy and clear weather, but at night, the atmosphere would begin to shimmer and change. The sky would become increasingly sunless, yet it would still reflect an odd recalescent glow as the air cooled abruptly. It was as if a chilled blanket had been suddenly placed across a heated body and woe to any wizard who was caught outdoors without a warmer robe.

_"Luckily for me, thick black fur works just fine too,"_ thought Sirius Black.

He was currently trotting down a wooded path, in the timberland surrounding York and his sharpened sense of smell told him that he was getting nearer and nearer to his intended destination.

Sirius loved being a dog, there was nothing quite like it . . it was as if, whilst in canine form, he was personified elemental energy. His world was reduced to a swirl of odors, flashing mental images and overwhelming physical urges. And best of all, there were no moral dilemmas, no human frailties and certainly no human regrets. Most of the time, anyway. He reckoned that personal dealings with the female population of either species did not count.

_Yes indeed . . . all in all, it's much better being a dog._

He paused in a clearing of the woods, his inky blackness hiding him well from anyone who might be looking out the windows of the magnificent domain that was known as Malfoy Manor. Stepping behind a tree, he returned to human form, which lent the ability for more complex thinking. Looking at the estate, he half expected to hear the theme from that Muggle horror film he'd sneaked into during his teenaged years. . . the one with the bells. What had it been called?

_Ah, yes. The Exorcist_.

He let out a deep, dog-like snort as he looked closer at the building . . . this was no manor, it was more like a sodding fortress. Luckily, the estate was no longer guarded like The Citadel of Hell, now that Lucius had been dispatched to the underworld.

"_He's probably been appointed as Head Incubus and is now spending eternity fucking the stuffing out of some fat Muggle housewife in Pembridge,"_ thought Sirius, shivering with delight. "_That's why they call it Hell."_

He gave a pointy-toothed grin and shaking off his rather entertaining thoughts, he once again examined the imposing Malfoy domain. He couldn't help feeling rather cheerless at the sight. In fact, it looked rather pathetic in its crumbling grandiosity, like a stately politician who'd been corrupted by booze and scandal. And not for the first time, it occurred to him that he never really knew why Narcissa had abandoned her previous life to live as a prisoner to Malfoy family values.

_She's not my cousin._

Since that fateful morning when he'd learned of his true relationship with Narcissa Malfoy, he'd thought of nothing else. Apart from the first few minutes of the revelation, he spent very little time dwelling on the feelings of betrayal and regret as there would be enough time for all that in the future. This was an old-fashioned mystery and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

_My life has been an illusion._

_Who_ had done this to him? Being the pureblood that he was, he knew that there were likely a thousand reasons why any examination of blood would be savagely suppressed, so the question _why _was not such a mystery. Ancestry and blood relationships were of paramount importance and anything to upset the balance was sure to cause great upheaval. No indeed . . . the real question was _who_?

_Who am I really? Or did the mystery lie with her?_

As he gazed upon the Malfoy estate, he scanned the small buildings surrounding the compound, until he found what he was looking for. There, off to the east and near the manor kitchen, was the caretaker's little cottage. Sirius was trying to figure out how he was going to approach the building when, once again, he was favoured with a bit of luck. His sharp sense of smell caught the whiff of a kitten that was currently rooting around in the caretaker's trash and he got a sudden inspiration.

_Oh this is going to work like a dream._

Turning himself back into a dog, he scampered across the yard and manoeuvred himself near the kitten, moving slowly so as not to startle the little creature. Fortunately, the feline was so absorbed in trying to find something to eat that she didn't notice the large black paw descending upon her until it was too late. Sirius gingerly picked up the furry mite and cheerfully loped over to the caretaker's door.

When he heard the scratching, the caretaker was absolutely charmed when he opened the door. There, sitting demurely at his doorstep, was a magnificent large black dog, holding a small, pathetic orange kitty by the scruff of it's furry little neck. It was obviously half-starved and when the black dog put the kitten down, the big hulk let out a very pitiful whimper.

The old man heard the word, _"awwww"_ echo in his head, his heart literally melting at the sight. He was so charmed that he didn't notice the large paw landing with a "thunk" on the back of the confused kitten when said little cat tried to run away.

The black dog very gently picked the kitten up again. "Come along," the old man muttered, as he lead them across the yard, to the manor kitchen. He opened the door, letting the animals in whilst he gathered some scraps. When he turned around, he was surprised to see the kitten, sitting patiently for her supper.

The dog was nowhere to be found.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Draco had never felt so serene in all his life. He'd just made love to his future wife, he was surrounded by the grandeur of the Himalayas, he hadn't seen Potter in over three hours and he was going to be king.

It was an understatement to say that he felt an extreme sense of self-satisfaction.

_I love being me._

He tightened his arms to snuggle the warm, soft woman lying on top of him. As far as he was concerned, she was the most magnificently breathtaking woman he'd ever known. He gently stroked her hair, and poetically (or so he thought) compared its colour to that of a rich, expensive claret. Turning his head towards her he tugged on a lock, causing her to wince slightly.

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked playfully.

Draco's silly question seemed to bring Ginny out of a pleasant daydream. She was lying with her thigh flung over his legs, tracing patterns on his delightfully smooth chest. She lifted her head and looked at him with shining eyes.

"I dunno. What do you want to do?" she shot back.

"I dunno," he mimicked. "Perhaps we should have another go. I think the Duke is ready for round three."

"The Duke?" Ginny looked puzzled.

"Erm, you know . . . my, erm . . . my _love _stick."

Ginny snorted in disbelief. "You mean you've actually named your pe-"

"Yes, yes!" said Draco impatiently. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Why are you asking me? I don't have one," said Ginny dryly.

Draco smirked before continuing. "And thank Merlin for that. You see, it all came about when I once visited a combination candy and joke shop in Knockturn Alley called "Tarts & Farts" . . . perhaps you've heard of it? No? Well anyway, I got the idea to name the Duke after seeing a display of phallus shaped chocolate lollipops . . . they were called, "Dick on a Stick", and each one had its own special name. And best of all, they were charmed to do really disgusting . . ."

"I can imagine," Ginny interrupted. She apparently couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "But if you think I'm going to ever personally address your Best Bit as "The Duke", you're out of your mind."

"'Best Bit' will do just fine, then."

Ginny gave an exaggerated sigh and laid her head back down to his chest. They were quiet for a few minutes, just enjoying the feel of each other and this rare occasion when their lives were not in total turmoil. However, Draco couldn't help but feel that the stillness was just an illusion . . . the old proverbial 'calm before the storm'.

_Perhaps we need a diversion._

"So, what do you want to do now?" he finally asked again, in a wheedling tone.

Ginny gave him a pointed looked. "I know what you're getting at, you sex fiend. I just need a little time to catch my breath! Maybe we can spice things up and drink the rest of our Polyjuice. I've always fancied a try at lovemaking as a man. How would you like to be sexually ravished by Neville Longbottom?" She laughed at the horrified look on Draco's face, as he made a gagging sound.

"Good Lord, you'll give me nightmares." He added with a chuckle, "Kinky mare." He leaned in for a tender kiss.

They enjoyed a contented silence until Draco's voice once again penetrated the thin air. "So, speaking of Longbottom, how did this all come about? Last we spoke, I was going to send for you."

"What can I say? Weasleys are not exactly known for their patience. It was interesting, really. I just approached Hermione, moaning to her about how much I missed you, how we'd just taken our relationship to a new level when you had to go away, and how the separation was killing me. She's been working like a slave on that counterspell, by the way, and she thinks she may be close to solving it."

"It can't be soon enough for me. So . . . what happened next?"

"So, she got all gooey-eyed when I was talking, mumbled something about hormones, and said, 'Oh, for heaven's sake. Of course I'll help!' The next thing you know, I'm Apparating across two continents as Neville Longbottom."

Draco's silver eyes widened with surprise. "I'll be buggered! I'm really beginning to like this rule-breaking side to Granger . . . I always thought of her as a goody-goody with a big fat stick up her arse."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said so."

Draco waved a dismissive hand. "She already knows. And anyway, of all people! Neville Longbottom?" Draco said his name as if the very sound of it split his eardrums.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Apparently Severus has all kinds of strange stuff in his potions stores, including an astonishing array of hairs taken from the heads of former students. He had some Polyjuice that had been completed just to the part where you add the hair, so it didn't take long to make. It was something that he'd done for the Order, according to Hermione. I thought it best not to ask why."

"Probably wise. And I can't wait to find out how Severus reacts to her once again stealing from his stores to make Polyjuice. I'm thinking that must be some weird power struggle thingy between them. He's a total control freak, you know."

"I know," she chuckled.

There was yet another lull in the conversation before she once again raised her head to study him closely. "Perhaps we should talk about it," she announced suddenly.

"What on _earth _are you talking about now?" Draco was certain he'd never get used to her tangential leaps in conversation.

Ginny huffed in exasperation. "You asked me to marry you, remember? That's big, I mean really, _really_ big. Have you told anybody that you were going to ask me?"

"Nope. You're the first to know."

"Mmmm."

"Mmmmm what?"

"It's like I said, this is big . . . and it's going to affect a lot of people, not just us."

Draco shook a tousled, arrogant head. "No, _the_ _Duke_ is big . . . marriage is just inevitable."

"How very romantic," she said sarcastically. "So, if that's the case, when should I start sending out wedding invitations?"

Draco immediately sat up, almost flinging Ginny onto the grass in the process.

"You can't tell anybody yet, Gin. I'm not ready to take on that battle," he said urgently.

"What are you on about?"

"Come now! Don't tell me that it hasn't occurred to you that there will be opposition to this marriage, not only from both sets of parents, but from the Ancient Houses, as well. Those who would oppose me would love it if I was caught by surprise. No . . . it's going to take a maximum of Slytherin Cunning to pull off this marriage. Luckily I have an amazing amount of S.C. so I'm sure we'll do nicely."

Ginny fought an uneasy feeling, but just quilled it up to nerves. It suddenly occurred to her that they'd been alone together for a very long time.

"Shouldn't we get dressed?" she asked. "Before someone comes looking for you?"

"You mean, as in Potter? Trust me, love. Potter is having a great time right now, giving himself a nice toss, I'm sure. _"And, no doubt, thinking of you,"_ he added mentally. It was not a thought he would ever say out loud.

"Still, somebody could be looking for you," she insisted.

"Like who? The yeti? Gin, nobody is going to come traipsing up this mountain, looking for us. We're in the middle of nowhere. And the Duke is quite eager," he said rakishly, as he rolled over on top of her.

Suddenly they heard a loud pop.

"Hi!"

Draco twirled and gave an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp, wand pointed at the direction of the sound. Harry was looking down at them, or more precisely, he was looking away from them, his face crimson. He'd apparently Apparated to that very spot.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said casually.

As was inevitable, Draco began to shout. "FOR THE LOVE OF NIMUE! You scared the holy fuck out of . . . out of Ginny, you moron! Then he remembered their state of undress.

Merlin's marinated gonads! Potter had seen him naked!

_"I'll never feel clean again,"_ he thought fleetingly, as he dived under the blanket. Ginny was half a second behind him.

Then he went absolutely spare.

"AM I EVER, _EVER_ GOING TO SHAG AGAIN WITHOUT BEING RUDELY INTERRUPTED?" he roared at Potter. "THIS IS GOING TO BE MY FIRST DECREE WHEN I'M CROWNED: HIS MAJESTY PRINCE DRACO OF AVALON WILL HENCEFORTH BE ASSURED OF THE RIGHT TO ENGAGE IN COITUS ABSOLUTUS UNINTERRUPTUS! ANYONE WHO IGNORES SAID DECREE AND INTERRUPTS THE ROYAL RUTTING WILL DIE A GHASTLY AND PAINFUL, _PAAAAAINFUL_ DEATH! THEN I SHALL HAVE SAID PERSON BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE AND KILLED AGAIN IN A SIMILAR FASHION! "

Ginny had a strange hybrid expression on her face, as if she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I'm sorry," said Harry in a small voice, sounding genuinely regretful. "It's just that Eldorf sent me out to find you. We've news from home."

Draco muttered a conjuring spell, and instantly he and Ginny were back in their robes. "News? What news?"

Harry couldn't quite meet their eyes. "We're to go back to the cave and pack our things. Hermione broke the magical code of the Antequam Eructo spell a few hours ago and was able to come up with a counter-spell. She's tested it and re-tested it and it apparently works. We're going home, Malfoy. And oh, uh . . . hullo Ginny."

Ginny just gave him a silent, mortified wave. Draco reached down to help her to her feet.

"Well at least you spoiled our interlude with good news. But I'm still royally cheesed off," he sniffed.

"Believe me, I would rather have not seen what I saw," Harry muttered, in a traumatized tone. "And Malfoy?"

"Yes, wanker."

"You are the most disgustingly hairless man I've ever seen."

_That's it. The tosser has insulted my looks. The truce is officially over._

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The inside of Malfoy Manor was certainly no improvement to the outside. The air was stale and musty, as if any aura of life had been swept away for hundreds of years. Sirius could see where someone, perhaps Narcissa, had tried to give the place a more modern cheer, but the gothic ambiance totally overwhelmed such meager attempts. Most of it looked to be centuries old and not in a good way.

_"This place is like a bloody mausoleum,"_ he thought with distaste.

He tried not to feel sorry for Narcissa, but for the first time in years, his usual contempt for her had fled. She lived here . . . _had_ lived here for twenty-five years and all he had to do was look around at the shattered pomposity to know that she had paid a very high price to become a Malfoy.

_"She asked for it,"_ a part of him snarled.

Since he'd escaped from Azkaban, some twelve years earlier, Sirius had found the old cliché, "time heals all wounds", to be pure and complete bullocks. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his injured soul, he was still in mourning for the loss of the precious time and opportunity that his confinement had caused. Sometimes the pain of it would well up at the most unlikely of moments . . . whilst watching a Hogwarts Quidditch match, or observing children eating ice cream in Hogsmeade . . . and once when he'd first heard the plaintive notes of Puccini.

And sometimes, even whilst in the throes of an ecstatic orgasm, he felt a blunt blade of anguish tear through his soul, as well. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. He figured that if it hadn't been for the events in the aftermath of James and Lily's deaths, he would have found some beautiful, worshipful witch, settled down and gotten married.

_Would it have been Narcissa?_

He savagely put that thought down as he continued to move through the bottom floor. There didn't seem to be anything alive within miles of him, yet he crept up the stairs slowly, mindful of any creaks or missteps. He didn't really know what he was looking for, but he figured whatever it was, he should probably start with Narcissa and Lucius' private quarters. Or perhaps, he would just confront her. He was still indecisive as he reached the second floor of the Manor.

_Did she know?_ Had she known all these years that they'd been lovers? That they were not blood related?

_Please God. I don't think I could take it if she's kept this from me for all these years._

When he'd first had the opportunity to contemplate what Remus had told him, his initial and overriding emotion had been anger . . . intense and unrelenting anger. But, as was usual when he was in the werewolf's company, cooler heads prevailed and Remus had pointed out to him that he really didn't know what Narcissa knew about the past.

For all he knew, she'd been duped, just as he'd been. And for the first time, as he crept up those stairs, he fervently hoped that she knew nothing of the truth.

_Otherwise, I just might kill her._

He quietly began opening the doors along the hallway, but they all seemed to have been unused for many, many years. Finally, he reached a set of large French doors at the end of the hallway and he instinctively knew it was her room.

Taking a deep breath, he silently pushed open the door and cautiously peered inside. The room was dark . . . it was late after all, but through the partially obscured moonlight, he was able to make out a figure on the overlarge bed.

Narcissa's long blonde hair was spread out across the pillow and she'd apparently flung her arm up over her face, sometime during her sleep. He felt a tug of familiarity at seeing her sleeping form.

_"Time to get some answers,"_ he thought to himself. Looking around the room, he pulled out his wand to cast a spell that old Mad-Eye had taught him years ago, when they'd all been together at Twelve Grimmauld Place. It was designed for Aurors who were searching for Dark items in the homes of suspected Death Eaters.

"Acclaro Occultus," whispered Sirius, looking around the room.

Immediately, it was as if all the solid structures in the room had turned to air. It reminded Sirius of a very racy Muggle colouring book that Remus had shown him whilst they'd been to school at Hogwarts . . . everything in outline, waiting to be coloured in.

Sirius looked down and through the floor, he could see the room lying just underneath them. He looked over at the east wall of her bedroom and was disgusted to see that a family of rather large mice had made a huge nest near the corner. Slowly he began turning around the room until his eye caught something unusual in what appeared to be a closet.

_"This must have been added later,"_ he thought. _"Old manors do not have closets."_

He walked over to the closet and saw that a series of bowls were lined up behind the far wall. That was atypical in and of itself, but what really drew his attention was a lone bowl, separated from the rest, in a different hidden compartment. Sirius had the ridiculous notion that this was the Head Bowl . . . the leader of the bowls, so to speak.

_That's the one I want._

He stepped into the closet, wand pointed at the concealed niche and whispered, "Dissendium!" Immediately, a magical door was opened and Sirius could clearly see that the bowl was actually a Pensieve. He eagerly took it, and plopping himself on the floor of the closet, he placed the Pensieve front and centre.

Without hesitation, he put his hands in the bowl.

_His own image was the first thing he saw . . . he'd been young, probably no more than nineteen or twenty and he was wearing a pair of his favorite ripped pair of Muggle blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He was getting off his flying motorbike and had reached up to take the helmet off his head, flinging his goggles aside with an impatient gesture. He gave a vigorous shake of his head as he unfurled his long and shaggy hair. Sirius watched as his image pushed his mane out of his face and suddenly the young boy's eyes lit up as another figure came running to him._

_Narcissa. This was her memory._

_They were standing outside the doorstep of his cottage in Blindley Heath, which had been bequeathed to him by an old dotty uncle on his mother's side. It had been his favorite sanctuary during his Hogwarts years and his parents, never very attentive to begin with, allowed him to spend many weeks of uninterrupted jolly-making with the lads during the holidays. When he'd finally moved in with the Potters, he and James had spent most of the summers there._

_It appeared to be early spring as the trees were just beginning to bud._

_She was wearing a light summer robe, yet she'd pulled the hood up over her head, as if to hide her identity. When she pulled it down, the sun caught her golden hair in a dazzling way and Sirius sucked in his breath at the sight. There was no denying that Cissy had always been very alluring._

_Then he noticed her tear-streaked face._

_Their images looked around quickly, as if checking for the presence of spying eyes. Sirius found that interesting and thought that perhaps they weren't supposed to be seeing each other._

_His image self didn't say a word to her, he just grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway. Sirius followed them right through the seemingly solid door and shadowed them to his small parlour, if it could have been called that. It had been was more like a bachelor party room. He noticed several empty bottles of Ogden's strewn about the place and grinned._

_He hadn't been there in almost twenty-five years._

_His image lead her to the sofa, sitting himself next to her and he put a comforting hand to her cheek._

_Sirius was struck by the way they were looking at each other. Such naked hunger. . . . they'd been far too young to ever hide it. He found himself looking upon the scene with a sense of poignant longing._

_Finally Sirius' image spoke. "So what is it? Your owl this morning sounded very urgent. I told the Potters that I had business in London so I could meet with you. It's best if nobody knows that we're still seeing each other right now."_

_Narcissa, nodding, was weeping in earnest and Sirius lifted one of her hands reverently to kiss it. "Hush now Cissy, tell me what's wrong. Why are you crying?"_

_Narcissa spoke softly. "I found out something, Sirius. I found out something that is so devastating I just don't know what to do." More tears leaked from her china-blue eyes._

_"What did you find out?" he asked breathlessly._

_She couldn't seem to speak at first and for a brief second it looked as if she'd changed her mind about telling him. Finally she squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her hold on his hand. "I'm not really your cousin," she whispered suddenly._

_The Sirius image recoiled as if struck by lightening. "What do you mean you're not my cousin? Of course you are."_

_She gave a forceful shake of her head. "No! I'm not! I overheard Mum and Dad having a terrible row last night. Dad had been drinking and I guess they thought I was still at Alice Hensley's house. I could hear the screaming from my bedroom, so I crept to the stairs and heard everything. Dad was shouting at Mum that it was her fault that I was rebelling and that I had bad blood. Mum was screaming back at him that they'd promised to never speak of it, but Dad would have none of it. He said that the blood of some man named Jeremy Evans ran through my veins and that was why I was turning against the Old Ways. And I don't even know who that is," she cried._

_Image Sirius got a stricken look on his face. "Evans? Did you say Jeremy Evans?"_

_Narcissa nodded her head. "Yes. That's who Mum said. Do you know who he is?"_

_"Narcissa," said Sirius gently. "Jeremy Evans is the name of Lily Potter's father. You must be mistaken. He's a Muggle."_

_Narcissa began to wail. "That's what Dad said! He said Mum had slept with that mudblood bastard and it had been a mistake to bring me into the house. Mum said that it had been the only way to make sure that I was brought up properly, that Jeremy Evans had never wanted me. They went around and around about it."_

_The young Sirius pulled Narcissa close and wrapped his arms around her as she cried. "There, there," he said soothingly. "It's all right, my love. Everything is going to be all right." He continued rocking her, but she struggled against him and lifted her face._

_"How can you say everything is going to be all right?" she said hysterically. "Lily Potter, that Gryffindor cow, is my sister! Everyone loves her, but I can't stand her. And now? I find out I'm related to her? Oh, I'm going to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower!"_

_Sirius saw his image shake her gently. "Narcissa!" he said sharply. "You're forgetting the most wonderful part of all this. You said so yourself. We're not cousins. That means . . . that means . . . "_

_He bent his head forward and very tentatively kissed her. Sirius stared at them in voyeuristic fascination as Narcissa then lifted her arms around his younger self's neck and deepened the kiss, bringing her body closer to his._

_Suddenly, the scene faded away and was replaced by a different image. It took a few moments for Sirius to reorient himself._

_He was now looking upon a display in his bedroom at the same cottage. From the angle of the sun coming into the window, Sirius figured that it was about midafternoon. He gazed upon the large bed and gasped at what he saw._

_His younger self was naked, making blissful love to Narcissa Malfoy and it was obvious that they were both carried away in a consuming passion. His first instinct was to avert his eyes, yet he founding himself gawping at them with an uneasy feeling of intrusion._

_They looked so very beautiful together. And for the first time, Sirius understood why he'd always been drawn to lithe young blondes as lovers . . . he'd been unconsicouly trying to recapture her for all these years. He was uncomfortably aware that he was becoming increasingly sexually aroused, yet he continued to look upon them as they completed their lovemaking with a flurry of intense moans and gasps._

_His adolescent image rolled away from his lover and held her closely, whispering, "I love you so much," in an awed tone that only the young seem to have. Narcissa looked at him tenderly and said, "I love you too and I have something I need to tell you. Something that I hope will make you happy."_

_Sirius' image beamed at her and said, "You always make me happy, but tell me your glad news anyway."_

_"I'm going to have a baby."_

Sirius suddenly jerked his hands out of the Pensieve, reeling in shock. Putting his head in his hands, her words echoed over and over in his mind.

_A baby, I'm going to have a baby . . ._

The _fucking _bitch! She'd been pregnant and kept it from him all these years! He let out a snarl and stood, picking up the Pensieve as he charged out of the closet. He must have made enough noise because when he reached her bed, Narcissa was already waking up and starting to raise herself.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" he screamed. "OUR BABY! WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR BABY?"

Narcissa looked up at him in confusion. "Sirius? What are you . . . "

Before she could finish her sentence, Sirius threw the Pensieve on the floor, the fragile ceramic shattering into a thousand pieces. As the liquid spread across the hardwood, silvery tendrils quickly curled up and gathered around the shaking woman's head. Suddenly, they seemed to penetrate her body and she let out a blood-curdling scream.

And she continued screaming and clawing as Sirius gathered her quivering body in his arms.

_To be continued . . ._

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

A/N: Those of you who have already read this chapter before may notice a major change in how I've written Narcissa's secret parentage . . . the way I had written it before, Sirius and Narcissa were _still_ cousins (grin) . . .

Thanks to my friend and beta, Elizabeth.


	11. Chapter 10: Stay

You'll remember me when the west wind moves  
Upon the fields of barley  
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky  
As we walk in fields of gold

So she took her love   
For to gaze awhile  
Upon the fields of barley  
In his arms she fell as her hair came down  
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love  
Among the fields of barley  
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky  
As we lie in fields of gold

From the song, "Fields of Gold" by Sting  
  
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Chapter 10: Stay  
  
Four months.  
  
It had been four bloody months since he'd set foot in Camlann Castle and as far as Draco could tell, he'd traded one prison in the Himalayas, for another one in Gwynedd, Wales. Eldorf had been relentless since they'd arrived, keeping Draco busy with grueling studies, arduous hunting expeditions for Graphorn and endless duels with Harry Potter. Not to mention countless meetings with the Heads of the Ancient Houses. But the worst of it was the hippogriffs. Eldorf had been adamant that Draco was to keep up the royal tradition of breeding hippogriffs for use in polo matches.  
  
Draco snorted.  
  
First off . . . he hated polo. Not that he'd ever personally played, but he'd read about it in the Royal Library and had decided that his second Royal Decree would be to outlaw the game outright. For one thing, hippogriffs were really smelly . . . a horrible combination of sweaty feathers and what Draco figured to be the scent of fresh ferret blood. And for another thing, it was sodding ridiculous . . . swooping around on a ghastly beast and hitting a little flying ball with a big, long stick. Eldorf had taken great delight in showing him a painting of one of his ancestors, King Ulpres IX, taking a stick to the face and then falling gracelessly from his flying, feathered steed. A horrified Draco had shouted at Eldorf to cover the damned thing up, but the little wizard then had the nerve to admonish him saying that he was going to have to "buck up, boyo", because if Draco wanted to be taken seriously as a monarch, he was going to have to play the game.  
  
He'd had nightmares about it for weeks.  
  
At least Potter was only at Camlann Castle for a day or two at a time. Then he'd conspire with Eldorf, only to disappear again for weeks to do only Merlin knew what. Eldorf had muttered something about a recruitment effort, but was reluctant to say anything more until he'd conferred with Potter . . . something about "seeing which way the wind blows".  
  
Whatever _that_ meant.  
  
Draco figured that whatever they were up to, they'd better hurry as things were finally coming to fruition. Next week he'd be crowned as Prince and perhaps then, he could finally direct his own destiny.  
  
His first order of business would be to announce his engagement to Ginny Weasley.  
  
Sighing, he turned from the window seat in his vast bedroom and regarded the young woman currently occupying his bed. Ginny, in typical fashion, was tangled in the sheets and duvet, which caused the bed to look as mountainous as his current view of the northern Welsh countryside. Her copper hair was an unholy mess around her face and he could just make out her generous lips, pouting as she slept. The bedlam she presented caused his heart to ache with longing.  
  
He didn't think he'd ever be able to live without her.  
  
And he was no closer to figuring out how to transform Ginny Weasley into Princess Ginevra of Avalon. At first he'd hoped to have an ally in Eldorf, or "Dorfy" as he'd taken to calling him in his head. But soon it became clear that Eldorf was nothing if not a traditionalist and Draco knew there was no way he was going to approve of Ginny Weasley. While Eldorf of Gwynedd did not interfere with Ginny's "visits" to Camlann Castle, he'd been cool and distant, yet nobody could have accused him of being outright rude.  
  
Instead, Malfoy had kept his plans for Ginny strictly to himself . . . until recently. He grinned to himself in anticipation of his plans. Hermione had taken up the cause and if her efforts in the downfall of Voldemort were any indication, she would not give up until she figured a way out of his dilemma.  
  
Friendship with Hermione had its own rewards, but her ability to get him out of a pickle was fast becoming his favorite. After all, it was because of Hermione that he was no longer trapped with Harry Snotter in the Himalayas. And while they weren't much closer to figuring out who had tried to kill him, at least he could freely move about in public, as long as Hermione's anti-Antequam Eructo spell was cast beforehand.  
  
Nobody was going to be blowing up Draco Malfoy anytime soon.  
  
As usual when presented with an unpleasant thought, he turned his mind toward something that made him happy . . . in this case, contemplation of marriage to Ginny. Of course, there was so much going against the Weasley Clan. For one, they'd completely forsaken their pureblood values in favour of mixing with the Muggles, and not just in the platonic sense. Draco had the feeling that if Charlie Weasley wanted to marry the ghost of Elvis Presley, he'd have Arthur's blessing. Molly's reaction would be somewhat less certain, but still . . . perhaps she'd capitulate to the idea if Elvis promised to sing, "Love Me Tender" at the wedding.  
  
Draco snickered, pausing in his daydream to imagine _that_ silly scene.  
  
Secondly, there was the question of Ginny's virginity . . . which sounded rather redundant to Draco's ears. Or, in this case, her lack of virginity, if you wanted to look at it another way. He'd read enough about the barbaric royal traditions to know that he was expected to marry a virgin.  
  
Draco let out a quiet huff. As if there was a virgin in wizarding Britain who wasn't under the age of 15 or older than 100! Well . . . if he had to marry a virgin, he'd just have to make one up.  
  
Ginny began to stir and made the most delicious moaning sounds. Draco approached the bed and reaching out, he caressed the tousled hair out of her face. At his touch, Ginny sleepily opened her eyes, blinking several times until her vision cleared. Smiling sensuously, she reached up to cup his cheek as he simultaneously leaned over to give her a slow, deliberate kiss.  
  
"How long have you been up?" she asked, her voice still graveled from sleep.  
  
"For a while now. It's almost nine o'clock."  
  
Ginny sat up abruptly, giving a delighted Draco a nice view of her naked torso. He felt a sharp stab of want, which was quickly extinguished when she reached for her dressing gown, lying crumpled at the foot of the bed. She hastened to put it on.  
  
Noticing his mope, she laughed. "You're insatiable, you brute! As if staying up half the night wasn't enough for you."  
  
Draco gave her a rueful look.  
  
"It's just that I only get to see you on the weekends," he grumbled. "I can't wait until we're married so we can spend every night in our bed. If you think you're tired _now_-- "  
  
He smirked.  
  
Ginny's facial expression suddenly turned hopeful. "Are you saying you've figured out how to get around that ol' "virgin" thing? At least we've got Harry's promise never to reveal that he was my first. And I know he'll never tell."  
  
Draco inwardly winced at the mention of Harry Potter's "Grand Gesture". Over his protests, Ginny had approached Harry, who'd graciously offered his total silence, if not his willingness to outright lie about their previous intimate relationship. While a part of Draco had been grateful, another part of him had resented Potter playing the noble gentleman. But it had served to soothe one of his worries on the subject: Ginny had assured him that nobody outside Potter, Hermione and Draco knew that she and Harry had once been lovers. There had been speculation in the press . . . especially that morning she'd been caught sneaking out of Harry's house, but in reality, she'd never spoken of it to anyone except to her best friend and to Draco.  
  
"No," he said in answer to Ginny's question. "I haven't figured it out. But Hermione had a couple of intriguing ideas. She said that I couldn't be the first Royal to be in this position. She said that given my Malfoy ancestry, somebody in the family probably figured out a way to fool the Royal Physician into accepting a non-virgin."  
  
Ginny gave him a pained look. "Now tell me again why I have to subject myself to a very unwanted physical exam?"  
  
"Because you have to be certified."  
  
"Oh, yes . . . that's what I thought you said. I'm going to be a Certified Virgin now. The world can sleep peacefully at night, knowing that," she said sarcastically. Muttering, she added, "If that isn't the most ridiculous thing."  
  
Draco gave her an insolent look. "We can hang your Certificate on the wall if you'd like . . . right next to the one you got from Hogwarts. I'll get you a nice frame."  
  
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Very funny." Side-stepping a playful swipe from Draco, she headed towards the bathroom. It was one of the modern conveniences that had recently been added to Camlann Castle. "While this has been fun," she said, "I must clean up and fetch Hermione from Hogsmeade. You'll have to keep Eldorf occupied while I sneak her in. She says nobody except Severus can know that she's here. That way, she'll be able to research the Library with no questions asked."  
  
Draco nodded. "I have a feeling that I'm going to spend the rest of my life hiding stuff from Eldorf the Nosy. Perhaps I'll send him on some errand and we can have the castle to ourselves."  
  
Giving him one last smile, Ginny disappeared into the bathroom.  
  
Draco quickly dressed to go downstairs. Eldorf had informed him that he needed a royal valet to "serve him breakfast in bed" and help him dress for ceremonial occasions but as the sounds of Draco's bellowing protests were clearly heard by the House Elves three stories away, Eldorf had quickly backed down. He'd gone away muttering something about knowing which fights to fight and which ones to drop.  
  
Royal tradition or no royal tradition, there were just some things that Draco Malfoy was never going to do. Letting someone else dress him in the morning was one of them.  
  
Unless it was Ginny.  
  
Making his way to the Grand Hall, he noticed that Eldorf was in conference with several house-elves. They were apparently conferring on the menu for the banquet, which was to occur after the coronation. Eldorf broke away from the group and greeted Draco cheerfully.  
  
That completely stopped Draco in his tracks and served to put him on guard.  
  
Eldorf bowed low as he approached him. "My lord, we're just making final preparations. And I had the house-elves prepare a room for Lady Snape. In her delicate condition, she may want to take a nap this afternoon."  
  
Draco looked at him in dumbfounded silence until he managed to croak, "How in the world did you know Hermione was coming today?"  
  
Eldorf gave him a creepy, enigmatic smile. "There is not much that passes me by, my Lord. You would do well to remember that when you're trying to pull the wool over my eyes, so to speak. For instance, I have it on good authority that Lady Snape will only be staying until this evening. Am I correct?"  
  
"Yes, yes! Uncle Severus will be by to collect her tonight. Now if you're done giving me the willies, I have things to do."  
  
Eldorf gave a furtive look around the Grand Hall before answering. "We have other things we must discuss," he said quietly as he led Draco to a chair at one of the tables. "My sense is that you haven't thought things out thoroughly, where Miss Weasley is concerned. For instance, you do realize that I know she's not a virgin. That's pretty obvious considering she's been in your bed almost every weekend since we left Nepal. You must be frantic to figure a way out of your fix."  
  
"Stop living inside my head, you little parasite!" Draco shouted.  
  
The diminutive wizard reached over to affectionately pat Draco's hand. "My boy," he said quietly. "I'm not against you. I know you love her. I just wish that you could have chosen someone more suitable. It is not me you have to worry about, but your mother and the Ancient Houses. It's an impossible situation and I don't want to see you get hurt. Why can't you just accept her as a mistress? Many great monarchs have had powerful, prominent mistresses."  
  
Draco shook his head. "I would never insult her like that. I'm going to find a way around this and you're either with me or against me. And I don't ever want to hear you mention the state of Ginny's virginhood to anyone." He leaned closer to Eldorf and snarled, "This is your chance to elevate the House of Gwynedd to its former glory once again. Do not cross me in this matter. Ginevra Weasley will be my wife and if you interfere, I'll see that you go down in flames . . . even if I have to go down with you. Remember what I did to Voldemort."  
  
Eldorf just smiled benignly. "As you wish," he said. "I am your servant, not your keeper. But my advice to you is for discretion. There are those who would love to know the truth about Miss Weasley, starting with the licentious press."  
  
"I'll handle the press," muttered Draco. "In fact, Lady Snape has vast experience in handling the press, going back to our Hogwarts days." He visualized Rita Skeeter in a jar. "I'm thinking of making Hermione my Press Secretary."  
  
Eldorf chuckled. "A wise choice," he said. "You must surround yourself only with those you can completely trust. Lady Snape is above reproach."  
  
For the first time, Draco felt a pang of affection for the little wizard. "You really do only have my best interests at heart."  
  
"You will be King someday. I want you to be a good one," said Eldorf, as he got up from his chair.  
  
"Thanks Dorfy, erm . . . I mean, Master Eldorf. I plan to make you proud. Now if you'll excuse me."  
  
Draco could feel Eldorf's eyes on him as he began to walk away from the table. He heard the little wizard mutter one word as he exited the hall.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
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Narcissa Malfoy bolted upright in bed, her breathing harsh and sweat pouring down her neck.  
  
She'd had the most terrible nightmare.  
  
_"Malfoys don't sweat,"_ she thought fleetingly, before another thought imediately followed.  
  
_I'm not a Malfoy. I'm not even a Black._  
  
Looking down at her companion, she settled herself against his sleeping form, careful not to awaken him.  
  
_If anybody finds out the truth, many lives will be ruined.  
_  
It had been four months since that fateful night that Sirius Black had invaded her bedroom. Four months of major mental and emotional adjustments and she was still terrified that the truth of her life was going to eventually come out.  
  
She shuddered as she remembered the onslaught of memories that had assaulted her when Sirius had thrown the Pensieve on the wooden floor. Those memories had flooded her consciousness in an instant and had served to disorient her in such a way that she'd thought she was going quite mad. In a blink of an eye, everything she thought to be true was proven false. And she'd been filled with equal parts terror, anger and love for the man that she'd always thought was her first cousin.  
  
He'd held her closely then, soothing her as she'd shaken and cried and remembered a past that had long been forgotten.  
  
"Narcissa," he'd said tenderly. "Please don't cry. I just want to know what happened. I want to know _why_ it happened. You're the only person who can tell me that."  
  
She'd swiped her hair out of her face and taking a shaky breath, she'd told him, "I don't even know where to begin."  
  
He'd reached to hug her closely again. She remembered the scratchy feel of his robe and the pleasant scent of his aftershave. Pulling away from her, he'd searched her face for a moment before saying, "Why don't I tell you what I know from the Pensieve? I know that we've been lovers in the past. I know that you're not my cousin, that you're actually the daughter of Jeremy Evans. Do you remember that?"  
  
She'd nodded wordlessly.  
  
"I also know that you told me that you were pregnant with my child. I was so shocked and upset by that . . . I'm sorry I broke the Pensieve, but you must fill in the gaps for me."  
  
Narcissa had pulled away from him and getting up from the bed, she'd reached down to the broken Pensieve and had pulled up a piece of the ceramic. "I don't remember this Pensieve," she'd said softly. "But I know who probably made me put my memories there. I imagine I was forced to use that Pensieve by Lucius Malfoy." She'd turned to Sirius and saw that his handsome face had hardened into a hateful mask.  
  
"I thought so," he'd whispered harshly.  
  
Narcissa had taken note of his anguish and was greatly moved to comfort him. She'd walked over to him and had reached out to caress his face before continuing with the story. "I suppose that you, more than anyone, can remember what the climate was like, twenty-five years ago. While first cousins in the Muggle world were permitted to marry in England, we were not. There'd been increasingly more stillbirths and squibs were being born to pureblooded wizards at an alarming rate. Marriage was strictly regulated. For too many years, family lines had crossed each other, until we were so inbred that it was affecting our health."  
  
Sirius had nodded. "I _do_ remember that. And I guess that's why we had to keep our relationship a secret in those days. It was very taboo."  
  
"Yes," she'd answered. "And then came the day that I found out that I was not a pureblood, that my father was a Muggle. I can't begin to tell you how devastating it was to find out that Lily Evans was my half-sister. But you somehow made it seem like it was a new beginning for us. I felt like if I had you, I could face anything."  
  
"I wish I could remember that," said Sirius. "I don't understand why I don't remember any of this. Do you know who tampered with my memories?"  
  
Taking his hand, Narcissa had moved back over to the bed and sat next to him. "You aren't the only one whose memories were altered. You must believe me when I say that until five minutes ago, I knew nothing of what I'm about to tell you," she'd said in earnest.  
  
"I believe you. I just need to know who is responsible for all of this."  
  
Then she'd looked him straight in the eye and had told him the truth. "It was Lucius and my father. Or should I say it was Lucius Malfoy and Dominicus Black. I can never think of that man as my father _ever_ again. If you'd stayed in the Pensieve longer, you would have learned that after I told you I was pregnant, they showed up at your cottage. My so-called father had suspected us for quite a while and Lucius . . . well, Lucius had been pursuing marriage with me for several months. It was quite an ugly scene."  
  
She couldn't help it. Tears had begun to fall in earnest again and each memory was like the relentless sting of a hornet.  
  
"Tell me more," Sirius had whispered, as he'd wiped her tears away with his thumb.  
  
Keeping her eyes fixed firmly on his face, she'd continued the story. "Lucius stormed through the bedroom door and before we could even move, he cast a Binding Spell on you. He taunted you, saying he wanted you to hear everything. My father followed him in . . . Merlin! I remember putting on my robe and screaming at him to get the fuck out of the house, that he wasn't my father and that I was never going back. I can still hear him laughing in my head. He said that I was a stupid, stupid girl and that no Muggle bastard child was going to ruin his reputation or the reputation of the Black Family. And that's when he pulled me from the bedroom. I heard him tell Lucius to cast the Obliviate on you. Oh Gods! You were screaming, 'Let go of her' and 'No! No! Cissy come back!' I'll never forget the look on your face, as long as I live. I can't believe I _ever_ forgot it."  
  
Sirius began to tremble. "That I remember," he'd said quietly. "It's been in my nightmares for months."  
  
By that time, Narcissa could not continue the story. She'd started sobbing and Sirius once again had comforted her until she could regain her composure.  
  
"Everything happened very quickly after that," she finally told him. "Dominicus told me that I was to forget all about you and that if I pursued a relationship with you, or blabbed about my true parentage, he would see to it that you were eliminated."  
  
"He threatened my life?"  
  
"Yes and he also told me that I was to accept Lucius' marriage proposal. I told him that it was impossible and that I was pregnant with your child. He just shrugged and said he would inform Lord Malfoy of the situation. He said that it was up to Malfoy to decide what to do, whether he would raise the child as his own, or force me to get rid of it. Dominicus Black was quite content with how things had turned out. Apparently, Lucius' father had gambled away most of the Malfoy fortune and Lucius was keen on getting a hold of our wealth. Lucius was all about the money and nothing else. In return, my father was getting rid of his bastard child and grandchild as well as gaining the respect of the pureblood Malfoy name. As you know, the Malfoys ruled Britain for centuries. Dominicus was very impressed with that. So I had to make a choice: marry Lucius or seal your death. I married Lucius Malfoy a week later."  
  
"Holy shit," Sirius had muttered. "It actually all makes sense now." He'd looked at Narcissa with haunted eyes. "So what happened to our child?" he asked quietly. "I'm almost afraid to ask."  
  
For a few brief moments, Narcissa had considered lying to him. After all, _this_ truth was much more devastating than the fact that she was not really a pureblood. But when she looked at his face, she could see that he loved her still and suddenly all the trust she'd ever felt towards him was as deep as that day they'd parted, all those years earlier.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy was sterile," she finally told him, truthfully. "It appears that all that pureblood inbreeding had affected him as well. He was quite delighted to have an heir, even if he probably grew to hate him because of his real father. Remember how Lucius tried to kill Draco after the Final Battle? Well, I think we now know at least _one_ of the reasons he was so willing to commit that blatant act of murder."  
  
Sirius had a look on his face liked he'd just been doing loop-de-loops on a broomstick. "I have a son? Draco is my son?"  
  
She'd nodded to him and for the first time in twenty-five years, she saw a genuine smile light his face. It had been dazzling. She remembered him gathering her in his arms as he murmured over and over again, "I'm a father . . . I'm a father."  
  
And he'd been very happy. That was, until she'd explained to him that he could never acknowlege Draco as his son.  
  
They'd argued for a while, until she'd convinced Sirius that Draco would hate him if he revealed his true paternity . . . not only would it mean that Draco's whole life had been a lie, but he would be declared a "Pretender to the Throne". It would completely ruin the boy.  
  
"Are you ready to do that?" she'd asked. "Are you ready to completely uproot every so-called truth that Draco has ever known?"  
  
And Sirius had certainly _not_ been willing to ruin Draco's life.  
  
"Perhaps it could work if I didn't publicly acknowlege the boy?" he'd asked.  
  
At first Narcissa had told him only that she would consider it, but the last thing Sirius told her that night was that someday, after Draco was crowned, he would find a way to privately tell the boy that he was his father. And of course, he'd consult with Narcissa about the timing of that revelation.  
  
"He has a right to know, my love," he'd told her. "I want to get to know my son properly. And besides . . . he and Harry are first cousins. You and Draco are now the only family that Harry has left, besides those dreadful Dursleys."  
  
Feeling overwhelmed, Narcissa had decided that 'when the timing was right', they'd tell Draco everything. But now was not the time. They'd have to wait until he grew more powerful in his reign. And they'd have to scheme, to do it right.  
  
And so they agreed to keep up the facade of hatred . . . to only see each other secretly and in complete disguise. Thus far, they'd managed to meet three more times in the last four months. Sirius was hungry to hear stories of Draco and Narcissa was delighted that, unlike Lucius, he seemed to really love and admire the boy. She'd mentioned to him that she didn't understand how Draco could look so much like Lucius, yet not be his son. Sirius had laughed at the irony of it, saying that he and Lucius were actually related -- their maternal great-grandmothers had been McNair sisters and portraits of the witches showed them to have the same pointy face and cold gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy. "Good old-fashioned pureblooded inbreeding," he'd commented. "Besides, he's got your hair."  
  
Narcissa had really appreciated the humour of that. After all, she looked nothing like her supposed "sister", Bellatrix Lestrange. And now she understood why.  
  
With each meeting she and Sirius grew more and more comfortable with each other. The last time they'd been together, they'd even snuggled closely on the couch, arms draped around each other while looking at photographs of Draco as a child. Narcissa's biggest adjustment was not so much that she was not a true Black, but that Draco was not a true Malfoy.  
  
Every morning she had to re-orient herself to that fact.  
  
And she was pleased . . . so pleased that Draco did not carry that bastard's blood . . . until she remembered that it was the Malfoy name that gave her son his stature in the wizarding world. She decided that to the outside world, he would always be a Malfoy, but that someday, he would know who his father really was. And it looked like Sirius was there to stay, with regard to his son. There was no going back.  
  
It could have been so perfect. The last time she saw Sirius, she'd contemplated taking him back to her bed, but had decided that they needed more time to get to know each other again.  
  
But then the unthinkable happened.  
  
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Narcissa spent the next hour awake in her bed, thinking about Sirius and Draco. Stirring next to her, the man who'd slept with her for the last two nights reached to her and pulled her close to his body.  
  
"Narcissa," he said sleepily. "Why are you awake? Are you still worried about your little secret? You needn't worry. I can keep a secret just as well as Sirius Black."  
  
Instead of seeing the face she longed for, it was Emile Zabini who smiled up at her.  
  
The source of her nightmare.  
  
How the fuck had she gotten into this mess?  
  
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Walking into the library, Draco beamed when he saw Hermione with her nose deep within a book. She'd been at Camlann Castle for the past ten hours and despite her pregnancy, she showed absolutely no sign of fatigue. In fact, she appeared to be completely within her element. She was firmly ensconced at a table in the Royal Library, surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves, and piles of books lay open all around her.  
  
He would never forget the sight of Ginny leading Hermione down the path to the massive front door of Camlann Castle. After his conversation with Eldorf, he'd climbed up to one of the battlements to watch for them and had burst out laughing when they'd finally appeared over the last hill.  
  
Camlann Castle was completely surrounded by the most powerful wards on Earth, which encircled the castle in a one mile radius. Hermione had fretted about the distance, knowing that she had to Apparate to the edge of the wards and then walk the mile down to the castle. Like Hogwarts, there was no Apparating directly into the castle. The difficulty lay in the fact that Hermione was currently eight months pregnant and in no condition for onerous exercise.  
  
However, they'd managed to overcome that obstacle quite nicely. Apparently Ginny had cast a Mobilicorpus on Hermione and she'd floated behind the redhead, looking like a giant Buddha meditating under the Bodi Tree. One of the Snape house-elves was following closely behind, although it was wringing its hands and fussing over the mother-to-be in a most annoying fashion.  
  
They'd made quite a sight.  
  
Clearing his throat, he caught Hermione's attention as she looked up from her book. She gave him a wide, affectionate smile and he sat down next to her.  
  
"Any luck?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"I'm getting closer and closer. The problem has been finding the damned books, once they're referenced in other sources. You really _must_ get someone in here to organize this library. It has the most amazing array of books, probably the best I've ever seen, but it's almost impossible to find anything."  
  
Draco predictably rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to put that on my "List of Things to Do," right after "Have Hermione's father give me a root canal."  
  
"Ha ha," muttered Hermione, looking back at her tome. "These books are dancing all around the subject, but I can't find anything that would restore the virginity to a non-virgin. I'm beginning to think it's a very obscure spell. However, this one here," she pointed to a thick musty book, "this one is very promising. It actually mentions a spell by name. But it doesn't have the incantation in it. I was just looking at the references when you so rudely interrupted me."  
  
For the first time in months, Draco began to feel upbeat about the whole situation.  
  
"That's the best news yet. What time is Severus coming to get you?"  
  
"He's not," answered Hermione, a bit sheepishly. "Once it became apparent that this was going to take a lot longer than I'd thought, I had Loopy owl Severus and tell him I was spending the night. I asked him to come for me tomorrow evening. That should give me plenty more time to do some more digging. After all, once we find the incantation, I'll have to practice it and make sure it's perfect. I don't want to cause Ginny any physical problems. Can you imagine if I botch this spell?" She suddenly let out a very un-Hermione-like giggle.  
  
"You might never be able to have sex with her again."  
  
Draco shuddered. "Don't even joke about that," he said, his voice cracking.  
  
Hermione stood up and gave a yawn and a stretch. "Where's Eldorf? I haven't seen him all day, except briefly at lunch and he seemed very distracted. Of course, that means I haven't had to lie to him either, which is fine by me. I don't like lying much. But it sure seems to come naturally to you," she added pointedly.  
  
"Hermione, your Gryffindor tendencies are sometimes a real pain in the arse. Don't think of it as 'lying'. Think of it as 'righting a wrong'. You and I both know that this royal tradition of marrying a virgin is outdated and ridiculous . . . not to mention, impossible in this day and age. And not only is Eldorf spending the night in London, he knows exactly why you're here. He figured it out on his own."  
  
"And you're not worried about that?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "He was surprisingly understanding about it. I think his position is 'Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil.' In other words, he doesn't want to know the details and he isn't going to interefere. He had a meeting with the Minister of Magic and other government officials. They're apparently working on the details of the transfer of some of the governmental powers to the monarchy."  
  
Draco gave her a wolfish grin.  
  
"Too bad Ginny had to go back home this afternoon," he commented. "You and I are the only humans at Camlann Castle. There's no telling what kind of trouble we could get into. What would Uncle Severus think?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"He'd think you're a silly git for having lascivious thoughts over a pregnant woman. Then he'd probably poison you."  
  
They laughed about that and Draco had been just about to make a snappy retort when Flukey, the Head House-Elf, entered the library lugging a very large portrait of Eldorf.  
  
"What have you there, my fine elf?" asked Draco, in good humour.  
  
"Master Eldorf wanted me to present this to His Majesty at precisely ten o'clock," squeaked the elf.  
  
"Well . . . that's very nice, but it clashes with the decor of . . . every room in the castle. We'll just have to put it in the dungeons."  
  
Suddenly, Portrait Eldorf gave a booming laugh. "SURPRISE!" he shouted. "Your coronation is in exactly one week, and while I'm not there in body, I'm certainly there in spirit. As Lady Snape has already left the premises, I thought this would be a good time to give you one last test before you're crowned."  
  
At that, every candle, every magical lamp . . . everything that gave off light was completely extinguished.  
  
"Eeeeeeel-doooooooooorf!" screamed Draco. "What the hell have you done now?"  
  
Portrait Eldorf continued to giggle. "For your last lesson, you are to spend the next twenty-four hours in a completely magic-free environment. All spells have been given the ol' 'Finite Incantatum. The only thing still in place is the wards, of course. 'Safety First' is our motto!"  
  
Cursing, Draco drew his wand and pointing it at the painting, he yelled, "Incendio!"  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"Lumos!"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Accio candelabra!"  
  
Nothing still.  
  
"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!" he shrieked.  
  
He could feel Hermione, making her way beside him.  
  
"Honestly, Draco," she huffed. "You'd think that he'd left you here completely helpless. Muggles get along just fine without magic. You're such an unbelievable wussy, sometimes!"  
  
"Well, I'm a blind wussy, then! I can't see a damned thing!"  
  
He could almost hear her eyes rolling. "Flukey," she said gently. "I know you can see well in the dark. Please ask Lippy to go to my suitcase and bring me the butane lighter I packed. It's in the front pocket. And before you ask, Draco, yes I brought a Muggle lighter. I always carry basic Muggle devices. One never knows . . . "  
  
"Miss smarty-britches," muttered Draco.  
  
Flukey apparently bowed, but they couldn't see it. He said, "Not to worry, my Lady. I'll see to it."  
  
"And take that bastard Eldorf with you," commanded Draco.  
  
They could hear the portrait laughing all the way down the hall.  
  
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_"Well, it's no use,"_ thought Hermione.  
  
She had absolutely no idea what time it was, since all the clocks in the castle were run by magic. She did know it was well into the middle of the night, as she'd lain awake for at least two hours, uncomfortably tossing and turning. Under normal circumstances, she had quite a bit of trouble finding a comfortable position for sleep, but it was even worse now as she was lying in a strange bed. And without Severus' soft, familiar snores, she just couldn't relax.  
  
Getting herself up to a seated position, she huffed with exertion for a few moments before standing up. She'd managed to light a nice fire in the bedroom, although it had taken Draco an hour just to find suitable wood. She smiled to herself as she remembered his creative use of curse words throughout the whole process. And the spoiled git had never chopped firewood a day in his life. You would have thought he'd suffered a major battle wound, with all the complaints and moaning about the blisters on his hands.  
  
Only some exaggerated exclamations and cooing by the house-elves had restored his mood. Flukey even found a thick, smelly salve to spread on the royal hands.  
  
_The big baby.  
_  
She took the candelabra off the fireplace mantle and lit it with her butane lighter. Thank goodness she had that thing! Now was not the time to be stumbling around a strange hallway. She had to keep her wits.  
  
Quietly, she walked down the hall to the grand double doors that housed the future monarch of Britain.  
  
_Boy, is he ever going to be surprised to see me._  
  
Opening the door, she could see that his fire was burning a lot brighter than hers had been. Looking over at his very large bed, she could just make out the figure of Malfoy, restlessly twisting around on the bed.  
  
He appeared to be talking in his sleep.  
  
"But Muuuum! I don't like vegetables in my salad! I'm not eating it and you can't make me!"  
  
_Good Lord . . . he even whines in his sleep!_  
  
Putting the candelabra on the table next to the bed, she gently nudged him.  
  
"Psssst, Malfoy! Wake up!"  
  
"Awwww Ginny! Not again! Isn't three times in a row enough for you?"  
  
Hermione clamped a hand to her mouth to keep from shrieking with laughter. She didn't want to completely startle him, but on the other hand, the situation was getting rather desperate.  
  
"Draco!" she said, much louder. "Get up! We have a situation here!"  
  
Draco immediately sat straight up in bed. "Wha?" He vigorously rubbed his eyes before peering at her. "Hermione? What the hell? Is anything wrong?"  
  
Just then Hermione was hit with a particularly hard contraction. Bending over in pain, she began to moan in an undignified manner. When she looked up, Draco had a wild-eyed expression on his face. Before she could even answer him, her water broke and she could feel the amniotic fluid running down her legs.  
  
She started babbling. "It's no use. I tried to hold off, but it's not like you have any control over these things! I thought they were false, but they're not . . . it's the real deal . . . the contractions just kept coming and coming, but it's not supposed to be time yet and Oh Merlin, Draco! I'm in labour!"  
  
Draco just stared at her as if she was a Disco-Dancing Death Eater.  
  
Then he responded.  
  
"NAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The word ended with a sob-like sound.  
  
House-elves came running in all directions.  
  
_To be continued . . . ._  
  
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Author's Note: I'm very sorry to end it here. I truly wanted to go on, but it would have made the chapter far too long. I promise to be more prompt, in light of the cliffie.  
  
Thanks to all who have reviewed! And thanks to Elizabeth, as usual.


	12. Chapter 11: Babe

Sweet dreams form a shade,  
O'er my lovely infants head.  
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,  
By happy silent moony beams  
  
Sweet sleep with soft down.  
Weave thy brows an infant crown.  
Sweet sleep Angel mild,  
Hover o'er my happy child.

Sweet smiles in the night,  
Hover over my delight.  
Sweet smiles Mothers smiles,  
All the livelong night beguiles

From the poem "A Cradle Song" by William Blake

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Chapter 11: Babe

Hermione didn't know whether she should be laughing lightheartedly at her situation, or crying in disconsolation. She just knew that she needed to plod along the hallway, pausing every few minutes to take deep breaths during her contractions.

She glanced at Draco, who seemed to be afflicted with some sort of nervous twitch. His right cheek was quivering uncontrollably and his eyes were darting frantically about the hallway, as if the answers to the question, "Where do babies come from?" could be found painted on the walls.

He was muttering to himself and Hermione distinctly heard him threatening Eldorf of Gwynedd's continued existence, in a rather colourful, if not crude way.

"Language, Draco," she admonished him. He just rolled his eyes with a huff.

The ridiculous picture they were presenting struck Hermione, as she took stock of the group that had gathered behind them. Every house-elf in the castle, sixty-four in total, was standing rock still, each with an expectant expression on its face.

And they all clutched individual candles, making the hallway look like a Giant House-Elf Birthday Cake.

They'd been following Draco and Hermione, at a respectful distance, as they'd paced up and down the long hallway for the past ten minutes. Hermione had insisted that walking was the correct thing to do while in the early stages of labour.

Well, maybe not 'walking', exactly . . . it was really more closely related to 'waddling'.

Draco seemed to momentarily bring himself out of his daze long enough to address the throng.

"Shouldn't you all be _doing_ something right now?" he snarled at the house-elves. "Like 'bustling'? I thought house-elves always 'bustled' in times of stress." He crossed his arms disdainfully. "We have standards here in the Royal Household, and 'elf-bustling' is one of them! Now get moving!"

He sneered contemptuously at them.

Hermione was oddly comforted by that sneer, but was plagued with the thought that he was really sneering because he didn't know what else to do.

Flukey looked at Draco with an air of quiet martyrdom. "Master," he said soothingly. "There is nothing to worry about. We are house-elves!" he said, stating the ridiculously obvious. "We knows all about birthing babies." He pulled out an older female house-elf from the crowd. "Bernadette here has delivered seventeen elf babies in the last year alone!" he crowed.

Draco apparently couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What kind of a name is Bernadette for a house-elf?" he inquired incredulously. "Shouldn't you be called, Minky? Or maybe Snarky? How about Pookey? That's a good name for a house-elf!"

Bernadette drew herself up proudly. "Certainly not! I'm French!" she said, as if that explained everything.

"But of course," muttered Draco sarcastically. Turning to Hermione he said, "You see? Everything is under control! The house-elves will take over now. I'll just go back to bed and finish that delicious dream I was having. Erm . . . owl me when you're a mother and I'll be sure to present you with a lovely parting gift."

He started off towards his bedroom, but Hermione pulled him back by the collar of his pyjamas.

"You were _not_ having a delicious dream," said Hermione, indignantly. "You were dreaming about your mum . . . and _salad_. And you're not abandoning me, you cowardly prat!"

"But Hermione," he whinged.

Suddenly Hermione doubled over in pain again. She clenched Draco by the scruff of his neck as her contraction took over. "Aaaaaaah," she yelled in his ear. Then she began breathing through the contraction. It sounded like she was saying, "Hee hee hooo! Hee hee hooo!"

Draco stared at her in dumb wonder. "Hee hee hooo," he said in bewilderment. "Is that some sort of secret birthing spell? Hee hee hoo? You're forgetting that we can't do magic here!"

Hermione allowed the contraction to pass before muttering to her self quietly, "Good Lord, he really _is_ useless."

Draco looked at her in exasperation. "I _told_ you that already," he said. "But I'll stick around until things start to get nasty and messy, and then I'm out of here."

Bernadette apparently took that as her cue. Bowing low to Draco she said, "Bernadette will see to everything, sir. Just show me where the Mistress laid her eggs."

"Eggs?" said Draco, incredulously. "Hermione, did you lay some eggs again and forget to tell me?"

"Of course not!" snapped Hermione. "I was _just_ going to mention that the house-elves would be as useless as you are. Honestly Draco! You've lived around them all your life. Didn't you know that they hatch from eggs?"

Draco was momentarily intrigued. "Do they now? I thought they just sort of 'showed up'. That's what it seemed like anyway. One day you're sneaking into the kitchen, the next, you're tripping over a baby house-elf."

Ignoring him, Hermione addressed Bernadette. "No offence," she said to the elf. "But I don't think you're going to be much help. We don't lay eggs. Our babies come from here," she said, pointing to her swollen belly. "And they're born through a little opening down here that gets really stretched—"

"Hermione!" barked Draco, in horror. "Now is _not_ the time for a lecture in human reproduction! Merlin, woman! You're upsetting my stomach."

Hermione gave him a smirk worthy of Severus Snape. "Serves you right, Malfoy. After all, you did try to abandon me to my fate."

Draco returned her smirk. "I would never have done that and you know it." Looking around at the house-elves, he muttered, "Well these creatures have to be good for _something_."

Lippy, the Snape house-elf, stepped forward with a suggestion. "Her Ladyship needs to settle in a room. She must have a place to birth the wee baby."

Draco nodded in affirmation, while Hermione murmured, "I wish they'd just call me 'Hermione'." "Splendid idea!" he said. The house-elves continued to look at him expectantly. "Well?" he huffed. "What are you waiting for? Get moving and prepare a room! You know . . . fetch stuff!"

Flukey's facial expression was fretful. "Master forgets that house-elves is used to powerful magic. We don't know what to do without it. We're waiting for Master to tell us what Mistress needs."

Draco lifted a questioning eyebrow, which prompted Lippy to explain. "We don't know where anything _is_, sir. We just conjure things and they appear. We don't know how to 'fetch.' "

"Oh for the love of Morgana!" muttered Draco. He gave Hermione a questioning look.

"Right," she said. "Erm, lets see . . . if I'm going to have a baby, I suppose I should have her in the guest bedroom. No point in messing up the royal boudoir with all that blood and other such fluids."

Draco's face turned pale.

Grinning maliciously, she ticked off her fingers as she continued with the list. "We'll need plenty of towels and we'll also need to sterilize some type of cutting utensil, so we'll need to boil some water over the fire. You're going to have to cut the umbilical cord, you know."

Draco's face went from pale to a funny shade of green.

"Unfortunately, we have no pain potions here, so I'll probably be screaming in agony the whole time."

Draco began to shudder. "You're not helping my nerves, Hermione. One more comment like that and I swear I'll be flying out of here without a broom." Hermione just smiled blandly at him.

"It's too bad the Royal Healer is not scheduled to move into the castle until next week," Draco commented. "We had a really hard time finding someone, which was quite surprising. It's quite a cushy job." He looked from Hermione to the house-elves. "Between the all of us, we should be able to figure something out." He crinkled his brow in concentration as he began to pace, sixty-four house-elves stepping in unison behind him.

Stopping suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I know! There must be a mediwitch somewhere close by! We're not the only humans in Gwynedd . . . Flukey!" he called.

"Yes, Master."

"Flukey, please go down to the village and fetch the mediwitch."

Flukey looked at him in confusion. "But sir . . . there is no mediwitch in the village. Pukey was just reminding me of such."

"Pukey?"

"My brother."

"But of course," snarled Draco. Hermione started giggling, thinking that 'Flukey, Pukey and Bernadette' sounded like a Muggle punk band.

"The poor girl is hysterical," said Draco, patting her on the back.

"I am _not_ hysterical," she corrected. "I'm quite calm." As if to prove it, she addressed the Head House-Elf calmly. "Flukey, what happened to the village mediwitch? I'd been told that there was one nearby, and in fact had been planning to visit her soon."

Flukey began to gesture wildly. "We used to have one, Ladyship. But she just ran off with Old Man Dynfallt, much to the relief of his wife. We don't know why she took such a shine to the old man. He had a huge, warty nose . . . although you know what they says about big noses."

Hermione inwardly groaned. First, she'd forgotten how gossipy house-elves were. If she didn't redirect the conversation soon, they'd be hearing about every resident of Camlann village and beyond.

And secondly, she did _indeed_ know all about what they say about men with big noses. She'd married a big . . . nose, after all.

Bending down as far as her large abdomen would permit, she addressed The Head House-Elf gently. "Flukey, there must be a mediwitch somewhere in Wales. Is there a nearby wizarding town with a healer?"

The little elf nodded his head earnestly.

"Yes, Mistress. That would be the town of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, Mistress."

Hermione and Draco stared at him, speechless, until Draco sputtered, "That is _not_ a word, you silly elf."

"Yes sir, it is," said Flukey indignantly, as sixty-three house-elves nodded their heads in agreement. "It's the nearest town with a mediwitch. But the locals call it Llanfair." He leaned closely to Draco and putting his hand to his mouth, he said conspiratorially, "It's a holy place."

Draco just shook his head. "The Welsh are insane," he pronounced with certainty.

Hermione ignored him. "Llanfair is not far from here," she said with relief. We'll just send an owl." She regarded Draco with a reassuring smile. "You see? I told you all would be well." She hooked her hand in the crook of Draco's arm. "Now take me to my bed, Draco."

Draco gave her his best sexy drawl. "Hermione! What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting I have my baby girl while making an oozy, bloody mess on your nice clean sheets."

She watched in satisfaction as Draco turned that wonderful shade of putrid green again.

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For the most part, the building housing the Ministry of Magic was really quite logical with regard to its layout and most folks had no trouble finding whatever Department they were looking for. However, every now and then, winding one's way through the Ministry was a lot like trying to catch a snake by its tail. Just when you thought you were close to your destination, another hallway would appear, or another doorway would magically reveal itself, making the process much more complicated then it probably needed to be.

Or at least, that's the way it seemed to Severus Snape.

As he made his way through Level Five, which housed the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Severus steeled himself for the meeting that was yet to come. In the words of old Argus Filch, Snape most certainly had to keep his wits about him, as many of the Heads of the Ancient Houses seemed to have their own agenda with regard to the future Prince of Avalon.

He was going to need to be supremely alert, when dealing with this wily crowd.

Severus resisted the urge to snarl. There was nobody around to appreciate it, in any event. He'd had a terrible half-sleep, not unlike those during the Dark Times, and he'd thrashed around in bed all night. His dreams were plagued with the sound of a little voice, both known and unknown to him and he couldn't quite make out what the childlike voice was saying. And Hermione . . . damn the little minx, but she'd insisted upon staying the night at Camlann Castle, against his better wishes. She'd said that she didn't want him "hovering about" and told him quite frankly that she wouldn't be ready to leave until this evening.

His scowl deepened even further and he was hard pressed not to feel sorry for himself. He was _supposed_ to be the man of the manor but a few more months of this and he'd be thoroughly henpecked, he was quite sure. She only seemed to take his advice when it was convenient; otherwise, it was "Sod off, Severus." It was the one bone of contention in their young marriage. A small part of him was still fearful, after all these months, that his life was just a dream and something horrible was going to happen if he didn't keep a watchful eye. Perhaps he'd experience one of the three Big D's: death, divorce, or desertion, and find himself all alone again. To say that Severus Snape was having a hard time settling into a happy life was an understatement. Hermione kept telling him to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, she wasn't around right now and that notion only served to piss him off again.

He couldn't help the thought that crept into his head: "_A pureblood wife would never act this way. She'd just take orders dutifully."_ But a dutiful wife was a boring wife and Hermione was never boring. Pigheaded and fearless, yes . . . boring, no.

Besides, Molly Weasley was a pureblood and look at what poor Arthur had to contend with.

Walking stiffly through a set of double doors, he was greeted by the Heads of the Ancient Houses, arrayed along either side of a very long, dark mahogany table. At the head of the table stood Albus Dumbledore, head of the most Noble and Ancient House of Dumbledore.

Severus contemplated the fates of the Houses as he looked to each member, standing upon his entry. Many of the former Heads of Houses were either dead or in prison and in their stead were other family members, those who'd been wise enough to stay out of the fray in the Second War. The McNairs were represented by Richnard, younger brother of Walden McNair, who'd committed suicide in Azkaban after spending two years in the company of Dementors. Decimated by war and madness, the LeStranges were also represented, although Rebastan and Rodolphus were long since dead and Bellatrix had been slain years before, by Harry Potter. A lesser cousin was now the current Head of the House. Rookwoods, Notts, Crabbes, Parkinsons and Averys . . . they were all represented before the Council. There had to be at least fifty Heads of the Ancient Houses present, all told.

Severus noticed a young wizard he'd heard of in passing, by the name of Stefan Harcourte, who was seated next to Dumbledore. Stefan's twin brother, Sloane, was the current new Potions Master at Hogwarts, hand-chosen by Severus himself. Stefan had worked in the Ministry for years as an Unspeakable and was very highly thought of in Ancient House circles. Despite the seriousness of his occupation, he had a twinkle in his eye to rival that of Dumbledore, although he was only in his early thirties. The first time she'd laid eyes on him at a Ministry function, Hermione had pronounced him "quite the looker", with his sandy blond hair and deep hazel eyes. Despite his wife's admiration, Severus grudgingly couldn't bring himself to dislike the young man. Indeed, Albus had also spoken very highly of him.

His eyes came to rest on Narcissa Malfoy, the only female representative of the bunch. Because Draco was still in seclusion before his coronation, she was taking his place temporarily before the Council. She looked a bit flushed, but still carried an aura of coolness that had been her trademark all her life. He noted that to her left was seated Sirius Black, the last heir to the House of Black and to her right was Emile Zabini, representing the House of Zabini. She looked supremely uncomfortable, but Severus figured this was due to being seated next to her cousin, with whom she hadn't spoken to for many, many years. He noticed Zabini whispering in her ear and her flush deepened.

Also seated at the table was Eldorf, as representative to the House of Gwynedd. The little wizard was perched on pile of books so he could see over the table, but despite his diminutive size, he had a dignity about him that was hard to miss.

However, the most notable member of the Council was its newest and one whose presence had not gone down well with many of the Houses. Harry Potter was seated on the other side of his godfather, representing the House of Potter. Severus had to suppress a chuckle at the memory of the outraged shouting over that little Dumbledore stunt. During a previous meeting, Albus had presented an ancient parchment to the members, which had clearly stated in Section 1033, subparagraph 44b, sentences 18-21, that should, in the event of the death of a Head of House, no pureblood heir be found, then the oldest half-blood member of the House would be allowed to take up the mantle of Head of House. The Potters were an old pureblood family and everyone had thought that with the death of James, their standing in the Ancient Houses had been revoked. After all, Harry Potter was the son of a Muggle-born witch. But old Albus had outsmarted all of them, insuring that Harry would have a say in the future governing of the wizarding world. The Headmaster had pointed out that this was only fitting, given Harry's participation in the Fall of Voldemort.

Besides, Draco had officially chosen Potter as his Minister of Defense. And as part of his duties, Potter was also to head up the Secret Guard, whose primary function would be the safety and security of the Prince of Avalon. It was only right that he be present at this final meeting of the Houses, before Draco was crowned.

As Severus seated himself on the other side of Albus, the Headmaster called the meeting to order.

"Gentlemen . . . Lady," Albus nodded to Narcissa. "This is to be the last meeting of the Ancient Houses, before the coronation of Draco Caius Ignatius Albion Dardanus Horatio Marcus Octavius Malfoy of Avalon."

Severus saw Harry Potter rolling his eyes, but luckily nobody else seemed to notice.

Albus continued. "This is really just a formality as we have been pounding out an agreement between the Ministry and Ancient Houses that would transfer some aspects of governing power to the Prince of Avalon. The foremost function of the new monarchy will be as a liaison between Great Britain and the governments of other countries. His Majesty's main function will be to insure the defense of this kingdom, as well as to maintain peaceful relationships with other governments. Hopefully."

"Ah, and there is the heart of the matter, is it not?" called out Emile Zabini.

"You wish to speak, sir?" asked Albus politely.

Emile stood up and taking a deep breath, he said, "We have been debating Lord Malfoy's role in the new government for many months, but we have been skirting around an issue that has been troubling me for a long time now."

Beside him, Narcissa frowned, and Severus was struck by the look of loathing that she gave Zabini. This surprised him because it was an open secret that the two had carried on an affair many years ago, but had developed a friendship of sorts, after their passion had finally cooled. Narcissa had always spoken affectionately of Emile, but to look at her now, one would think that she wanted to plunge a dagger into his back.

Oblivious to her glare, Zabini continued, "While I know that we have chosen wisely with regard to our new monarch, the fact of the matter is that he's very young and, well . . . to put it bluntly, he seems to lack the serious nature needed to govern effectively." A murmur rose through the crowd and Emile raised a placating hand. "Now, now," he said. "I'm not saying that he'll always be this way. After all, he's very young. I envision him growing into his role, maturing, becoming more effective in his leadership as he gets older. I think, that until that time comes, we should appoint a guardian for him. Someone who can keep him focused . . . someone who understands the true working of government and who can counsel him in times of decision-making. If His Majesty is to be in charge of our defense, he needs to be taken seriously by other governments."

The murmuring became louder until finally Sirius Black rose, his face seemingly suffused in fury. "What are you proposing Zabini? Are you proposing that someone take on his duties until which time you or you little minions see fit to allow the boy his rightful place as monarch? Just what kind of game are you playing at?"

Severus was truly surprised to see Black reacting so strongly to Zabini's obvious attempt to weaken Draco's power. Black had never been an enthusiastic supporter of the monarchy before today.

Something weird was definitely going on.

Zabini shook his head mockingly at Black. "No my dear, misguided, _uninformed_ friend," he sneered. "I'm just saying that perhaps someone should be appointed as Counselor and Friend to the Prince. And I think that given that his mother has his best interests at heart, _she_ should appoint someone who could be his confidante, someone who could guide him through the first few years of his reign."

"_Ah,"_ thought Severus. "_So that's his game. I wonder if he's already arranged all this with Narcissa. He obviously wants the job." _The plain anger on Narcissa's face, however, told Severus that all of this had come as a surprise to her as well.

The muttering got louder and louder, until all hell threatened to break loose. Years of suffering the company of dunderhead students in his Potions classroom prompted Severus to stand up.

"Siiiii-lence," he thundered, with disdain.

Giving him an amused look, Albus took the lead again. "Thank you, Severus. Actually, Mr. Zabini makes a valid point. I believe that a confidante would be good for Lord Malfoy. And while Severus, here, will also be around to guide his nephew, I think it would be in the best interest of all concerned if the Royal Counselor was somebody closer to Lord Malfoy's age. Lord Gwynedd will continue to guide His Royal Highness on his expected duties, but the Prince of Avalon will need somebody experienced in Ministry government to help him as well . . . somebody who has recently gone through some of the life changes the Prince will be experiencing in the next couple of years. And since we really can't appoint a Vice Prince, so to speak, I'd suggest the title of Vice Chancellor . . . a strictly honorary title, of course. The Vice Chancellor would have no final say in the decisions made by the Prince of Avalon."

Emile was beginning to stand up again to protest, but Narcissa grabbed onto his very expensive robes and yanked him back to his chair.

Suddenly Harry Potter stood up. "I nominate Stefan Harcourte as Vice Chancellor and Counselor to the Prince of Avalon."

Stefan looked stunned, which seemingly prompted Harry to explain. "I've known Lord Harcourte for several years now. His reputation as a loyal and kindhearted person is well deserved, as is his reputation for excellence in his work. Stefan and I worked together on several projects when I was an Auror and I can tell you for certain that he is above reproach. He's a devoted husband and father and I think he'd be good for Pinhead . . . I mean Lord Malfoy. Having spent many, _many_ hours in the company of our future Prince, I can say with certainty that he relates better to people closer to his own age, rather than, as he puts it, 'Half-dead, mouldering old aristocrats.' The glares aimed his way prompted Harry to add, "Hey! I'm only quoting his Lordship. Personally, I think you're all . . . erm . . . very young at heart."

Chuckling, Albus stood and said, "Thank you for that, Harry. I think Stefan is a fine choice. And to be fair, are there any other nominations before we go on?"

"I would like to add something to this debate," squeaked Eldorf of Gwynedd. Lifting himself precariously on his stack of books, he stood before the gathered group. "I have been instructing Lord Malfoy on his duties and obligations as the Prince of Avalon for several months now," he began. "Contrary to popular belief, Lord Malfoy is very temperamentally suited to his new role. While he hides behind a veneer of sarcasm and has a rather . . . _juvenile_ sense of humour, I can assure you that he is very serious about his place as the Head of State. He is quick-witted, hard working and very focused on what is expected of him. He has a very keen sense of right and wrong and has the intelligence to understand the more subtle workings of government. But like Albus, here, I believe that he will need somebody with whom he can speak plainly . . . someone who can serve as Devil's Advocate, so to speak. After all, sometimes it's hardest to speak the truth to those we love. And although he'd deny it, someday he will _need_ advice and counsel. I don't think that he can do that with me, his uncle, or even his mother. Stefan Harcourte, however, is a fine choice in my opinion. Knowing them both as I do, I believe that they will get along quite famously. I hereby second the nomination."

There was dead silence. Emile looked like he wanted to speak again, but something or someone was holding him back.

"No further nominations?" asked the Headmaster. "Very well. All in favor of the appointment of Lord Stefan Harcourte of Rye to the post of Vice Chancellor of Great Britain and Counselor to his Royal Highness Lord Draco Malfoy of Avalon, say aye."

There was a chorus of "ayes", with a few of them seeming half-hearted. However, it was by a unanimous vote that Lord Harcourte was named the new Vice Chancellor.

Severus quickly scanned the room to get the first true reaction of the Council members. It was imperative to observe them while the selection of Lord Harcourte was fresh and before they had a chance to scheme and align themselves either for or against the young wizard . . . such was the way of politics. The reactions varied from indifference to, in the case of Emile Zabini, outright hostility.

Severus mentally filed that information away for later

After an interminable amount of time, all parties signed the legal documents, thus insuring the proper transfer of power from the Ministry to the Prince of Avalon. The only thing left was the public ceremony, but in essence, Draco Malfoy was now the monarch of wizarding Britain.

"_I wonder what he's doing right now?"_ thought Severus fleetingly. He'd figured he'd take some time this evening to brief the Prince of Avalon on the interesting events of the meeting with the Ancient Houses.

Harry came up behind him briefly, saying, "We need to talk when you have a chance. I have a few ideas with regard to the selection process for the Secret Guard."

Severus nodded. "You may call at the manor tomorrow morning." Turning towards the door he was irritated to find that Eldorf wished to speak to him. Would he ever be free from this infernal meeting?

Eldorf of Gwynedd approached Severus with a beaming face. "I take it Lady Snape made it home in good order last night?"

Severus glared at the little wizard. "Whatever are you talking about? Lady Snape spent the night at Camlann Castle. Where the hell have _you_ been?"

Eldorf paled visibly. "You mean she didn't leave last night? But-but . . . "

Suddenly Severus heard a child's voice calling to him. He recognized it from the weird dreams he'd been having all night. It was ridiculous, but the Potions Master found himself turning around to find the source of the voice.

He was vaguely aware of Eldorf babbling at him, something about there being no magic at Camlann Castle and had he known, he would never have left Lady Snape in such primitive conditions.

But Severus barely heard him. The voice in his head was getting louder until finally it practically screeched.

"DADDY! MUMMY NEEDS YOU! NOW!"

Severus didn't wait another second and with a pop, he Apparated directly to Gwynedd, Wales.

And Eldorf was hot on his heels, as the little wizard disappeared a half second behind Severus.

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Draco wondered if the night could get any worse. You'd think that no magic, a labouring witch and no Healers within fifty miles would be bad enough. But no . . . Draco was beginning to think he was the director in a stupid Muggle French farce.

The first five or six hours had gone well enough. It didn't seem like Arddun was in much of a hurry to be born and Hermione was able to weather the contractions with little difficulty. But things had got steadily worse when the contractions became stronger and more persistent.

For one thing, it seemed that the Royal House-Elves were embroiled in a bit of a rivalry between the English elves and the Welsh elves . . . snippy comments flew back and forth and when you added Snape-Elves into the mix . . . well! Draco ended up breaking up what promised to be an all out race riot, which had commenced with a comment from the English elves about the Welsh propensity for sheep. House-elves were not the smartest creatures on earth, but unfortunately they _did_ know when they were being accused of weird sexual perversities. Things had gone downhill from there.

Luckily, house-elves had no hair to pull, but Draco had to keep them from poking each other's eyes out. He'd finally gotten them separated to opposite corners of the room, where each group tried to outdo each other with the things they'd "fetched" for Lord Malfoy.

Draco sighed as he surveyed the room full of towels, crowded cauldrons on the fire and enough "cutting utensils" to kill a herd of cows. Flukey had even gone so far as to fetch his favorite royal sword, passed down through generations of British monarchs since the Middle Ages.

_As if! _

When he'd finally resorted to yelling at them, they'd cowered in their corners, as if _he_ was the madman. Oh the injustice of it all!

Then they'd received an owl from the mediwitch at Llanfair, who was embroiled in her own set of problems. It seemed that a busload of Muggle tourists, against the advice of the locals, had decided to explore the outskirts of town in the middle of the night and had encountered a particularly fierce werewolf. Of all the damnable luck! Muggle tourists . . . a full moon . . . werewolves . . . no magic . . . racist house-elves . . . Hermione in labour . . .

"_It's a conspiracy,"_ Draco thought, morosely.

Needless to say, the Llanfair mediwitch had her hands full with transforming Muggles and trying to keep them quarantined. There would be no help from her tonight.

Hermione had taken the news stoically, but she'd been unable to hide the crease of worry from her face. That was, when she wasn't grunting in pain or yelling at him for his incompetence. Honestly! You'd think she'd cut him some slack, considering that he'd never been this close to a witch in labour before.

The straw that broke the proverbial camel's back was when she'd given him her latest "request."

"I'm not looking down there and that's final!" he said in horror. He was contemplating joining the elves in the corner of the room.

She had the gall to sneer at him. "What? Is ickle Draco afraid of an ickle baby?" she snarled. Good Lord, but having a baby sure made a woman grumpy!

"No," he said sarcastically. "Ickle Draco is afraid that whatever he sees down there will put him off women for the REST OF HIS ICKLE LIFE!"

Then Hermione resorted to begging. "Draco, please! Just check to see if I'm crowning. I have to know where the baby is."

Draco drew himself up with dignity. "I'm the only one crowning around here," he said haughtily. "That's all you need to know."

To his dismay, Hermione started bawling. "I w-w-want S-s-severus!" she wailed. "I want my h-h-husband." Her lower lip quivered and to his horror, her nose was starting to snot up. Then she let out a shriek to wake the dead.

"Ohhh! I can't hold off anymore! I have to push! Oh Gods! It hurts! Please Draco! I need you!"

Frightened out of his wits, Draco was moved to compassion. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said in this best "soothing" voice. "Of course, I'll do anything you want. Within reason of course." Baby or no baby, he had his limits.

Hermione had scooted up in the bed and was now clutching at the headboard. She drew her knees up and began bearing down. "Draco, it feels like the baby is ready. You have to catch her. I know you don't want to look, but you're just going to have to suck it up and deliver Arddun!"

Draco tried to keep the terrified tremor out of his voice. "What do you need me to do?"

Hermione gestured to a spot in front of her. "Come over here and position yourself between my legs," she ordered.

"_Well, that's one thing I know how to do,"_ was his cheeky thought.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to lift the sheet and have a peek. She could come at any moment."

Taking a deep breath, Draco began to move the sheet when he heard the door fly open behind him followed by the most welcome voice in the world.

"Remove yourself from between my wife's legs, if you want to see your next birthday."

Draco almost cried in relief. "Oh Gods! Severus! Quick, Arddun's coming and she's not waiting for anything!"

Severus shoved Draco off the bed and Draco was oh so happy to be shoved.

Hermione began to bawl in earnest. "I'm sorry Severus! This is all my fault and I know you must be so angry with me . . . "

"Not now, my love. We can talk about this later." Draco was barely able to turn his head away as Severus lifted the sheet. "She's right here, Hermione. Just one more big push. Come on, darling! I know you can do it."

If Draco hadn't been so squicked, he would have sniggered at hearing the fierce Potions Master calling his wife, "darling".

Severus pulled out his wand and muttered a sterilizing charm around both himself and Hermione. Noticing Draco's obvious question he said, "I Apparated with Eldorf. The last thing I saw as I was bounding up the stairs was the magic being turned back on again. I'm sure Eldorf will be joining us as soon as things are put in order."

Suddenly they were both distracted by the ungodly sound coming from Hermione.

"UuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGHH!"

Draco's eyebrows shot up. That was the longest and loudest in a long line of Hermione Yells. This had to be it. He looked over the house-elves, who'd apparently forgotten their animosity in the face of the "beauty" of childbirth. They were twittering in anticipation.

He looked back over at Severus in time to see his uncle pulling what appeared to be a large, purple ball of custard from between Hermione's legs. A purple custard ball with thick black hair, to be precise.

"Draco!" Severus bellowed. "Come here and take the baby, we're not done!"

Draco couldn't' figure out what more needed to be done, until he noticed several things. For one, the custard ball seemed to be attached to Hermione. Draco may have been a bit thick about babies, but he did know that babies were not attached to their mothers on any type of a permanent basis. Secondly, the attachment looked suspiciously like the Slytherin House mascot and for a moment, he thought Hermione had given birth to a very long, very ugly snake. He stared at it, dumbfounded.

"It's an umbilical cord, you idiot," snapped Severus. He'd already wrapped the baby in a towel and handed the bundle to Draco. "Lippy! I need a piece of thread to tie off the cord!"

"How is it you know what to do?" muttered Draco, half in awe, half in irritation.

"Unlike some of us, I occasionally read a book that doesn't have pictures in it."

_Snarky bastard._

Draco looked down at the baby helplessly. _"Good Lord!"_ he thought. _"That is one ugly baby! Poor Severus and Hermione . . . stuck with a purple slimy baby. I'll have to be strong for them." _To make matters worse, the baby let out a screech, which apparently began a chain reaction of screeches. The sound was appalling.

With the house-elves looking on, he cooed falsely, "Ooooh! Look at the beautiful baby." He was very proud of how he suppressed his shudder.

"Don't be daft," snapped Severus. "She's a horrifying mess. Once we get her cleaned up, she'll look human, I promise."

Draco let out a relieved breath. "I knew that," he said feebly.

Everything else seemed to happen very quickly. Severus was able to detach the baby from Hermione and while Draco held Arddun, Lippy muttered a cleansing charm over the baby. Sitting on a chair next to the bed, Draco finally got a true glimpse of the little tyke.

She wasn't so bad looking. Her hair was thick and black as midnight and her skin had gone from deep purple to a more normal appearing pink. He'd expected to see a large beak-like nose, but it only looked like a little button.

_Maybe she isn't Severus' baby after all. _

Hermione called to Draco from behind her husband. "Please bring her here, Draco. I want to see her."

"You can look at her," instructed Severus, "But I still need to deliver the placenta. You can hold her when we're done."

Draco held the baby up for Hermione to see, and to his dismay, the new mother began to cry. The nose-snotting thing was starting to happen again and Draco felt compelled to comfort her.

"Don't cry, Hermione. She's not as ugly as she was when she was first born. I'm sure she'll get better-looking as time goes on," he said.

To his surprise, Hermione started laughing. "I think she's the most beautiful baby ever born," she said as she giggled and cried at the same time. "I can't wait to hold her."

Arddun squirmed in his arms and seemed to want to open her eyes. However, they appeared to be rather swollen and Draco hoped that was just a temporary condition. Suddenly her face changed and he recognized the expression from other girls he'd seen looking his way.

"Hey! She's smiling at me!" he crowed. "Well, aren't you just a big flirt!" he said affectionately.

Hermione laughed. "She's not smiling, silly boy! Maybe she's just passing wind or something."

Draco seriously doubted that. People did not smile while passing wind, unless they were barmy like his old Uncle Basil, who had a tendency to grin at the most inappropriate times. He stared at Arddun, star struck. He could have sworn that she was snuggling into him.

Suddenly the thought came from nowhere: _I want one._

Before he could contemplate that surprising sentence, Severus snatched the baby from his arms. Feeling bereft, Draco followed them with his eyes. He felt like an intruder upon the scene of domestic tranquility, as Severus handed the bundle over to a weeping Hermione.

As long has he lived he would never forget the beautiful tableau they presented. Severus had his arm around his wife and was leaning close to her, staring at his child as if she were made of gold and diamonds. Hermione's hair was a bushy mess, but Draco had to admit that she still looked beautiful. Disheveled, but beautiful, now that her snotty nose had dried up. However, it was Severus who struck him the most. His uncle's facial expression was indescribable, as Draco had never seen it upon his countenance before.

Joy. Bliss. Peace.

Hermione was alternating between cooing at the baby and kissing her husband. Watching them made his throat tighten up and Draco had to look away.

"_I want one,"_ Draco thought again. _"I want a baby with Ginny."_

He wanted to experience this in the worst kind of way. He was more determined than ever to make Ginny Weasley his wife. The first thing he wanted to do after they were married was to start a family. That shouldn't be too hard, given the Weasley talent for procreation.

"Are you alright over there?" called Hermione.

"Oh yes," answered Draco. "I'm just lovely. And thank God that's over! My feet are killing me."

The last thing Draco saw before being hit by a flying pillow was the Potions Master laughing uproariously. He'd never heard his uncle laugh like that before. Draco felt that longing again, stronger than ever.

_I want one._

_To be continued . . . _

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Author's note: Thanks for your patience, as these chapters do seem to take me a long time to write. I also want to thank everyone who has reviewed, it makes all the hard work worth it. And of course, thanks to my lovely beta, Elizabeth.


	13. Chapter 12: King

If I were King of the Forest, Not queen, not duke, not prince.  
My regal robes of the forest, would be satin, not cotton, not chintz.  
I'd command each thing, be it fish or fowl.  
With a woof and a woof and a royal growl - woof.  
As I'd click my heel, all the trees would kneel.  
And the mountains bow and the bulls kowtow.  
And the sparrow would take wing - If I - If I - were King!

Each rabbit would show respect to me.  
The chipmunks genuflect to me.  
Though my tail would lash, I would show compash  
For every underling!  
If I - If I - were King!  
Just King!

From the song, "If I Were King of the Forest" sung by the Cowardly Lion in "The Wizard of Oz"

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Chapter 12: King

On the morning of his coronation, Draco stood in front of his mirror, studying his reflection with a critical eye. Two resplendent sets of robes were laid out on his enormous bed, both heavy with elaborate beadwork and embroidery.

"What do you think?" he asked the mirror. "Black? Shall I go with the black? Or perhaps green . . . I could always go with green." He shook his head. "No, green is rather predictable, don't you think?"

"It's _your_ Coronation Ball! I think His Majesty should really make a splash," gushed the mirror. "Try something different! Set a trend, my Lord."

"Yes, a trend . . . " Draco muttered as he stared hopelessly at his robes. "Perhaps I should have followed Dorfy's advice and hired a stylist."

It was still relatively early, at least as far as Draco was concerned. _"Indecently early,"_ he thought. _"After all, it's almost ten thirty in the morning!" _Eldorf had said that his days of the beloved lie-in were officially over and Draco figured he might as well get used to it. As he glanced into the reflection of the mirror he was startled to see Harry standing behind him with his arms folded. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the wanker was giving him that_ put-out _look. Whirling to face him, Draco didn't bother hiding the look of annoyance on his face.

"Do come in, Potter. Oh wait . . . you've already invited yourself in! Really, you've no manners whatsoever." Draco waved a dismissive hand at Harry. "You are a bothersome creature," he snipped.

Harry just grinned at him briefly before nodding at the clothing. "If you'll spend half as much time tending to the government as you do in front of the mirror, you might make good of this situation."

Draco didn't miss a beat, as he reached for another set of robes. "You wouldn't understand as you are of average looks and intelligence. Listen carefully: To _look_ good is to _be_ good. I believe Plato said that."

"Actually I think it was Gilderoy Lockhart who said that and look what happened to him! Poncey and addled is no way to go through life, Malfoy."

Even Draco couldn't hide his amusement at that statement.

Draco discreetly sent a sideways glance in Harry's direction. In all honesty, their relationship had got to the point where the banter between them was just that . . . the verbal equivalent of tossing a Quaffle back and forth. Oh, they still sparred, but there was really no malice behind the words anymore and Draco was aware of a subtle shift that had been occurring for months now. Secretly, when Harry wasn't around, he found that he sort of missed the prat, not that he would tell anybody that . . . not even under threat of Cruciatus.

Shuddering under the weight of his fluffy thoughts, Draco abruptly changed the subject. "So? You came barging into my private chambers. Whatever do you want?"

Harry was looking at Malfoy with an exasperated glint in his eye. "I just had a distressing conversation with your newly appointed Vice Chancellor. Stefan told me all about your break in Royal Protocol and frankly I think it's a horrible idea. As the unfortunate person who is in charge of your security I must register my vehement protest. Reality Wireless is a very, very bad idea. We don't need a bunch of strangers coming in here and peeking into our, erm, I mean _your_ private life. You're governing now, Malfoy. How do you expect to be taken seriously?"

Draco paused from his fashion perusal just long enough to stick his nose up at Harry. "How many times must I tell you, Potter? I'm _not_ governing! The Prince of Avalon is a figurehead . . . just another pretty face to sell magazines. And Reality Wireless is the latest trend in mass entertainment! Luna Lovegood and her crew are going to be following me around on this, my big day . . . there will be thousands upon thousands around the world listening to me on the WWN."

Draco smiled dreamily at himself in the mirror. "And Looney says I'm waaaay hotter than that Prince William bloke . . . he doesn't even have a formal title, you know. It's his _dad_ who is the Prince of Whaling. As if _that_ is a title to brag about . . . nasty business that whaling stuff."

Harry did a remarkable imitation of Uncle Severus' glower. "It's _Wales_, Malfoy. He is the Prince of Wales . . . and you are truly dead from the neck up."

Draco smiled an evil little smile. "That's just what I want everyone to think," he said in a pretentious tone. "Pretty cunning, don't you think?"

"I agree . . . you're doing a spectacular job of appearing as a complete knob."

Draco barely glanced at him as he flicked his wand, changing the colours on his robes. "I'm playing the game, Potter. All the while I manipulate and manipulate . . ."

Harry looked to heaven helplessly before giving Draco a measuring look. "I know you have plans, Malfoy," he said in exasperation. "Malfoys _always_ have plans. Just do me a favor and enlighten me with them before you go half-arsed into some rubbish or another. You never think first about what you're doing, and then the next thing you know I have to . . ." Harry trailed off in horror. There were a couple of tense seconds before Draco gave a snide response.

"You were saying, Hermione?" he asked, making sure to infuse a healthy dose of irony into his tone.

Harry flushed to the roots of his messy hair. "Ah, bloody hell! I can't believe I'm lecturing you like a schoolmarm. Erm, not that Hermione is a schoolmarm . . . don't tell her I said that." He nervously slipped off his glasses, rubbing the lenses with the hem of his jumper before he sighed. "Sod it all Malfoy, just do whatever you want. If you die, well . . . it would be terribly sad and all, but I'm quite sure I'd manage fine. However, considering what I'm giving up to be your paid servant, you could at least listen to my advice."

"And that would be?"

"First, if you insist on allowing this Reality Wireless crew to fanny about the castle, limit those who have direct access to you. Luna's fine, but I don't completely trust her judgment with regard to her co-workers. She's a bit of a flake, you know." Draco clutched his chest and faked a look of surprise, while Harry pretended not to notice. "If you ignore my advice and die, then it will be your own bloody fault. And to address my, erm, _potential_ grief over your potential demise, I think you should leave me something in your will . . . your antique snitch collection, for instance. It would certainly go a long way towards making me feel better . . . I hear it's worth a bundle".

Draco stared at him in astonishment before he started to laugh. "Great Graphorns, Potter! You've gone from sounding like Granger to sounding like me, which is scary, not to mention very disturbing." Harry blanched, which prompted Draco to add, "And you showed _appalling_ taste by mentioning my death and all, but seeing as you're trying to profit from my earthly departure, I'm rather impressed."

Harry gave him a sly grin. "What can I say? I was almost sorted into Slytherin."

There had been very few things in his life that had stopped Draco Malfoy cold, and this revelation was one of them. He was quite properly incredulous and struggled to think of something to say. He finally settled for the tried and true, "No blooming way!"

Harry seemed to be relieved to be sharing this secret with him. "The only other person I ever told was Ron and that was years later," he said. "The Sorting Hat seemed to think I would do well in Slytherin."

"So why – "

"Did I pick Gryffindor? Because I just didn't feel that Slytherin was my true place. I don't think I would have fit in."

Draco just rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, Potter. You nearly killed the Dark Lord before you were out of nappies. That kind of mysterious power fits right in with Slytherin. Still, it's just as well. I don't think that house would have been big enough for the both of us."

Harry nodded in agreement. "We probably would have killed each other, not to mention the fact that I thought that all Slytherins were evil. I didn't want to be evil or anything."

"How utterly predictable you were," murmured Draco. "However, had you been lucky enough to have been sorted into Slytherin, perhaps we would have been friends. Who knows?" Draco flushed slightly when he said this and couldn't quite meet Harry's eyes.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "I used to think that we could never have been friends because of your father . . . and the rotten things you'd done, but had I known that you were a spy for the Order, it probably would have changed things a great deal."

He looked rather embarrassed to say that.

Draco wanted to comment further, but thought better of it. Instead, he turned his back on Potter as he continued to trifle with his wardrobe choices. Settling an internal struggle he finally whirled to face Harry and said, "In the event of my early demise, I'll consider leaving you my antique snitch collection and I may throw in my entire collection of Kinky Quidditch Magazine, including the Slutty Seeker limited edition. It's in mint condition!"

He felt he was being quite generous.

"I'm touched," said Harry, managing to sound both sincere and sarcastic. He flopped down on an elegant chair and abruptly winced before reaching underneath to pull out a jewel-encrusted hairbrush. He raised an eyebrow at Draco, who arrogantly flipped his hair and muttered, "It was a gift from a fan." Harry shook his head in mock wonder.

Draco turned his attention back to his wardrobe choices. Picking one of the dress robes up, he walked over to a large armoire to deposit it before choosing another set of robes to inspect. Harry made his way over to Malfoy's night table, picking up a Prince of Avalon action figure that had been dueling with a box of tissues. The enchanted toy immediately whacked down hard on Harry's thumb with his little sword, causing him to curse and drop it on its head.

As mini-Draco shook his little fist at Harry, the dark-haired wizard gave Draco an accusing look. "In case you're confused, that's not really me, he's a prototype," said Draco defensively. "Although he seems a bit manic."

Harry shook his head and continued to walk around the room, picking up random jeweled boxes and opening them . . . pausing to sniff a bouquet of flowers on a table. Draco pretended to be indifferent but secretly he was wondering just what the hell Potter was really doing there. After a bit of an awkward silence Harry suddenly turned to him. "Don't you find this all a bit strange?" he asked, gesturing aimlessly around the bedroom.

Draco had a fair idea exactly what Potter was talking about, but feigned ignorance. "Which part?" he asked. "The part where you're hanging out with me in my bedroom? Or the part where I'm about to become a crowned prince?" He leaned back and crossed his arms to look at Harry contemplatively. "Of course, there's also the part where I'm going to marry your ex-girlfriend . . . so I suppose it's a toss-up."

Draco was pleased to see that Potter no longer winced or flinched when he mentioned Ginny. In fact, now that he thought about it, Harry hadn't outwardly reacted to Ginny or the mention of her in several months.

As if reading his mind, Harry remarked, "I'm alright with it all, Malfoy. About Ginny, I mean. I just want her to be happy, as boring at that sounds. And you seem to make her very happy. But with regard to marriage --"

"There are obstacles . . . yes I know," answered Draco quietly.

"Not the least of which is that you're a conceited bugger."

"Of course I'm conceited. I'm royalty! It's a job requirement. But I also know my limitations . . . few that they are, of course."

"Of course."

They chuckled together, rather awkwardly. "It will all work out, you'll see, Malfoy," said Harry.

Draco knew by his facial expression that Potter understood completely the obstacles he and Ginny faced with regard to marriage. Yet, with his playful ribbing, Harry still managed to make him feel better about the possibility of working things out. Malfoy felt that something had broken between them, and experienced an unfamiliar light feeling, something almost pleasant. He turned quickly away and picked up the dark blue robes, holding them in front of the mirror again, as he frowned.

"I took a survey once in a magazine," he remarked to no one in particular. "It was all about colouring and complexion . . . I favour 'winter colours', whatever the bloody feck that means." The mirror looked as puzzled as a piece of glass could possibly look, but Draco was too busy switching outfits in front of it to notice.

"Hmmm . . . what to wear, what to wear . . . too many colours, not enough time."

"What are you doing?" asked Harry in curiosity.

"I'm picking out my outfit for the Coronation Ball. I have to hurry as the Wireless crew will be here any minute."

Harry frowned at him. "Shouldn't you have done that weeks ago?"

"I suppose. I was trying to be spontaneous."

Suddenly they heard a commotion in the hallway. The doors to Draco's bedroom flew open and they were startled to see Stefan Harcourte, backing up into the room. "You all need to wait out in the hallway," he said to an unseen crush of humanity. "I must insist, no sound-amplifying wands in the bedroom. Miss Lovegood, if you'd be so kind as to set up the crew in the --" he glanced at Draco and stopped cold.

"My Lord! You're not even dressed!" he protested, oblivious to the sound of excited female squealing in the hallway. He turned his attention back to Luna & Co. "We'll be out in approximately ten minutes," he pleaded to the crowd. "Please! No shoving!"

Suddenly Stefan's face lit up, as he seemed to peer past the crowd. "Oh look, it's Lord Snape! Severus, if you'd be so kind to escort Miss Lovegood to the main floor library, they can set up there." Draco was just able to make out his uncle's magnificent scowl in the crowd as Stefan struggled to close the French doors. He paused to point his wand and chant a strong ward.

Turning, he looked at Draco with mild horror in his hazel eyes.

"I'm not sure I want to be your Counselor, if this is what I have to face," Stefan said, shaking his head. "Besides, you don't seem to take counsel well at all . . . I told you this Reality Wireless thing was a terrible idea. If you're not going to take my advice then perhaps you don't need me after all."

Harry patted Stefan on the back. "I know exactly how you feel," he said soothingly. "I suggest whiskey . . . it seems to work for me. Perhaps we should mutiny."

"Oh ha!" said Draco sarcastically, as he considered his Vice Chancellor. "Actually, I have every intention of following your advice, Stefan . . . just not today, that's all. And if you're concerned about Luna Lovegood, it's very easy. Have Severus give her and her crew an orientation tour of the castle. He'll absolutely loathe it, which of course makes it an even better idea."

Stefan looked at him with admiration. "You're a mean little bugger, your Majesty. It's rather awe-inspiring."

Draco just gave a delighted laugh. "Like I've said before: every dirty trick I ever learnt I learnt from my Uncle Severus. This is just my way of showing him what a good student I am. Of course, he'll probably get back at me before the day is over."

Stefan gave him a wide smile. "Very clever, my Lord. I can see that working with you is going to be rather interesting. So, is there anything else you require? I know we're both new to this and I'm still trying to figure out how I can best serve you."

Draco frowned down at his clothing. "Well Stefan, right now I'm in dire need of someone who can spiff up the old wardrobe. Despite the dozens and dozens of robes I own, I can't find a _thing_ to wear to the Coronation Ball."

"Shouldn't you have—"

"I already asked that," finished Harry. "He wants to be spontaneous."

Stefan chucked. "Well, perhaps I can help." He inspected the two latest robes that Draco had laid out on his bed. "Let's see, let's see . . . hmmm. Neither seems quite right to me." He flicked his wand at the velvet midnight blue robes.

Everything about the robes transformed. The colour changed to a brilliant aquamarine and the fabric went from velvet to a glimmering satin. The robes were infused with complicated patterns of embroidery in silver stitching.

In short, they were breathtaking.

Draco squinted closer and saw that the silver-stitching pattern depicted serpentine dragons flowing across the fabric. He could well imagine how they'd shimmer under the faery lights at the Ball.

"Erm . . . I don't know. They might make me look like a bit of a ponce," he said as he fingered the shiny satin longingly. It was almost a lover's caress. Harry and Stefan exchanged amused glances as Draco murmured, "Of course, the colour is smashing with my hair. Perhaps we should add the name, "Royal Stylist" to your list of titles, Stefan. Although, it may cause some to openly question your sexuality."

The Vice Chancellor stepped back in pretended alarm. "I don't believe his Royal Highness should be indulging in such petty stereotypes," he laughed.

His good humour was infectious and Draco found himself grinning back. "No matter, Stefan," he said. "If there's one thing I've learnt, it's that everyone has his or her own unique talents, even Harry, here. If we pool our talents, we can get a lot accomplished. It's called . . . what's that word again, Potter?"

"Teamwork," said Harry dryly.

"Oh yes . . . teamwork. I need to write that down."

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The wizards and witches of the British Isles hadn't seen a coronation for over three centuries and to say that this was a momentous occasion was like saying a Veela was nothing but a pretty witch. The air fairly hummed with excitement as Draco made his way to Camlann Castle. The cobblestone road was lined with people waving white flowers that had been imported from all over the Isles: there were orchids and lilies-of-the-valley from England, stephanotis from Scotland, carnations from Northern Ireland and the Isle of Man, with additional orchids from Wales.

And Draco Malfoy, The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-The-Center-Of-Attention, couldn't help but feel that all was as it should be. In fact, he probably would have been enjoying the adoration of the people a bit more, if it hadn't been for the fact that he was currently clutching for dear life onto the neck of a magnificent Common Welsh Green.

At least he _thought_ she was magnificent. He wasn't sure, as he'd kept his eyes closed for much of his ride.

"_If I'd known the ceremony included a wild ride on the back of a very disagreeable dragon, I would have reconsidered,"_ thought Draco. The thought was followed by a wave of nausea as the dragon made a deep swoop towards the crowd. She opened her very large mouth and let out a long, fiery breath. _"I don't suppose that screaming in terror during my coronation would make a good first impression on my subjects."_

Draco was all for pomp and circumstance, but this was truly going above and beyond. It was no coincidence that Eldorf had failed to mention the traditional dragon ride until two days before the Coronation. Draco had accused the little blighter of purposely keeping _that_ bit of information from him until the last possible moment. The tiny wizard had looked him straight in the eye and said that handling a "two-day hissy" was better than having to hear his Lordship whine for two months.

"Why, oh why do you insist upon making me ride giant, smelly, deranged flying Creatures of Death? Are you trying to kill me?" Draco had screamed at Eldorf. But now, looking back upon it, maybe Dorfy the Diminutive was right when he'd urged his Lordship to "just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Draco could hear the roar of the crowd as they plummeted close to the pathway that led to the castle. He became entranced by the whooshing sound of the dragon's wings and the way her iridescent scales rippled during flight. The most disconcerting thing was that he felt like he was holding on by the barest of threads, yet that made it all the more exhilarating. It was as if her life force was connecting to the center of his soul and he suddenly perceived the oddest mixture of both pride and humility.

"_When I cling to her I feel powerful and fragile at the same time. Maybe that's why riding a dragon to the Coronation is a tradition . . . I may be the Prince, but I'm still just a man like any other man." _

He looked down and saw the expressions of enthusiasm and regard on the faces of the people, and it struck him how absurd it all was . . .

"_Fuck me,"_ he mused. _"I haven't even done anything yet and they love me. This is so weird!"_ For a boy who'd known little in the way of love or affection during his childhood, all this adulation was rather unnerving.

Of course, it immediately went straight to his head.

"_Hey! This is actually pretty fun,"_ he thought jubilantly. He felt the wind whipping through his hair and suddenly experienced a surge of adrenaline. It prompted him to playfully strike a pose for the crowd as they yelled out their blessings.

Draco wanted to throw his head back and laugh with glee. "_Oooooh! Look at me! Look at me! I'm flying on a dragon! I'm the Prince of the Wooooooorld!_ _Wouldn't Severus just **shit** if he heard what I'm thinking right now? WOOOOOOOOT!"_

He turned his head to beam at the crowd. They were chanting his name, which caused him to give a jaunty wave. The answering clamor was ear splitting and Draco couldn't believe that everyone was truly as excited as they appeared.

"_Maybe Dorfy is paying them."_

As the dragon flew low over the cobblestone road, the people began passionately showering him with flowers and he swore he saw the grinning face of a Weasley twin, right before a viciously thrown lily poked him in the left eye.

With a sudden dramatic arc to her body, the dragon pulled up and landed right before the gates of Camlann Castle. Draco was extremely proud of the fact that he didn't go tumbling over the head of the beast, thus negating the need to say, "I meant to do that." Looking down, he saw Charlie Weasley handling the jittery dragon, trailed by both Potter and Stefan Harcourte.

Giving a last brash wave to the crowd, Draco gracefully slid down the creature's back before hopping off. Eldorf of Gwynedd was present to greet him and together they walked through the gates of the castle courtyard. Hundreds of people stepped in behind them as the large group made its way to an area where the Coronation was to be held.

Draco watched with secret amusement when both Stefan and Harry bowed low as he pranced past them to enter the castle grounds. Harry had paused long enough to meet his eye and give him a smirk and a wink, and Draco found himself emotionally moved by this friendly gesture. As he advanced toward the altar, he could see Ginny standing next to Hermione and his heart gave a little leap.

Ginny was holding Baby Arddun and it was all he could do to keep from running over and covering them both with sloppy kisses.

"_Steady there, ol' boy,"_ he thought to himself. _"You must keep up decorum at all costs."_

There was a rhyme and a reason to everything he was doing. It had taken Draco months to learn the symbolic meaning behind the clothing and the ornaments and even the Royal Oath. Everything that he was about to experience had occurred with all previous coronations.

It made him feel closer to his ancestors, somehow . . . to those Malfoys who'd served as Kings and Princes throughout the generations. Each of them had worn the same mantle, had carried the same sceptre and had given the same Oath.

And each of them had worn the same Royal Crown.

In fact, according to Eldorf, the first Kings of Britain were actually presented to the Druid priests for coronation while completely naked. It was supposedly symbolic of a monarch coming before his people in purity and humility.

To Draco, not only did it sound profoundly undignified, but also given that the ceremony was held outdoors in October, it sounded exceedingly frigid. And there was no way in hell he was going to pass his first moments as Monarch presenting his frozen and shrunken manly parts to his people, let alone to Harry Potter.

He'd never get _any_ respect after that.

Luckily, the Coronation Ceremony had evolved to where clothing was no longer optional. Draco had chosen to go before the altar dressed in unadorned hunter green robes of thick, rich silk.

"_I hope Creevy is in proper position because I want him to get a good picture of me for the cover of the Daily Prophet. I'm going to look wicked harsh before this is all over." _

He walked with studied concentration to the Royal Shield, which lay on the ground in the centre of the courtyard. It was made of iron and heavily ornamented with the logo of The Malfoy and various war motifs. Standing atop it, Draco heard Harry mutter a Feather-light Spell before he and Stefan lifted the shield upon their shoulders. Draco stood, arms folded as he balanced himself on the shield while Stefan and Harry moved slowly towards the altar.

"_Whoa, I can see much better from up here."_

Unfortunately, the only view he had was the tops of people's heads, although he did get a nice glimpse down the bodice of Ginny's robes, making it all worthwhile. He suppressed the urge to magically shrink himself and dive down the cleavage of her dress.

"_No distractions, no distractions,"_ he chanted to himself.

Harry and Stefan carried him in a wide circle around the courtyard, laying the shield to rest directly before Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked very dignified in his velvet robes of deep crimson and he smiled beatifically at the soon- to- be Prince. He bowed to Draco, which was his cue to walk over to Uncle Severus, standing to Dumbledore's right.

Severus had spent the better part of two weeks brewing the special oil that was to be used to anoint him. It was a variation of the unction that had been used to anoint the Muggle kings, but of course the wizard version was infused with various spells and magical potion ingredients, all designed to lend him certain attributes that would be useful to a new leader. Orris was added in order to instill love for his people. Galangal was placed for strength of mind and body. Sage was given for wisdom, Myrrh for protection and power. There had to be another half dozen ingredients, all brewed at different temperatures and added at only the precise moments.

Severus, of course, gave great attention to detail. They'd even agreed to omit the Lemongrass, which was supposed to help sharpen psychic powers. Unfortunately, it also had the property of repelling snakes and it would have been a sacrilege to anoint the Prince of Slytherin with such an herb.

"_I may be Prince and Country first, but Slytherin runs a very close second."_

Severus artfully withdrew the stopper from the bottle and bowing his head, he presented the unction to Draco. The spicy smell of the oil curled in the air and golden sparks shot from the bottle, forming a halo around the soon-to-be- Prince. Draco gathered the vial in both hands and lifted it towards the sky in a symbolic gesture. As he brought the bottle down, he caught a whiff of the exotic herbs.

Immediately his eyes began to water and his nose started itching. And then to his horror, his face began to scrunch up.

"_Oh shit! I know that smell!"_ he thought frantically. _"It's some type of pepper and I'm allergic—"_

Before he could finish that thought, he caught a glimpse of his Uncle Severus' face. The dark man's scowl was like thunder during the worst rainstorm imaginable. Draco didn't need to read his uncle's mind to know what the old bat was thinking. Severus' eyes narrowed and he bared his sharp teeth at his future King.

The nostril flair was a nice touch, too.

"Sneeze and you die," said the look. Miraculously, Draco found that the itchy feeling up his nose had completely fled in terror. He looked at his uncle in gratitude. Only Severus Snape could frighten a sneeze right back up one's nasal passages. He was truly a gift sometimes.

The Potions Master just raised a knowing eyebrow and smirked.

Relieved, Draco carried the bottle to Dumbledore and knelt before him. The Headmaster began to chant an ancient spell and Draco bowed low with this head to the ground. Dumbledore took large dabs of the oil and anointed Draco's shoulders and as the younger wizard rose to sit up, the Headmaster continued anointing him, first in the crooks of his elbows, then on his palms, between his breasts and finally on his head. Draco felt swirls of energy opening up throughout the length of his spinal column.

"_What an extraordinary sensation,"_ he thought. _" I feel like I have a case of the whirlies. So is this what a prince is supposed to feel like?" _

He didn't have much time to think about it because he had to fully concentrate on the ceremony. To Draco, it was really like a well-choreographed ballroom dance . . . only without the sequins and feathers, thankfully. He remembered that after the anointment with Dumbledore, he was supposed to step forward upon the Coronation Stone and face the crowd.

Harry and Stefan moved up, each with an article of the Raiment of Avalon. Stefan had the Royal Mantle; a very long cloak made of thickly lined purple velvet. It was trimmed in white ermine and the back of the cloak held the Crest of the Avalon, which consistedof two brilliant green dragons, each forming half of a circle. The dragons had their mouths wide open, and the breath of fire was depicted with splendid rubies and citrines. At the center of the dragons there was a sprig of mistletoe displayed and a representation of Draco's wand, both forming "x". Stefan put it around Draco's shoulders before clasping it.

"_Cor blimey, but this thing is heavy! Why didn't anyone warn me how heavy it is?"_

While he struggled not to crumple, Harry stepped forward, holding the Royal Sceptre. Draco had never even so much as touched it before now. It consisted of a seven sided, long piece of green fluorite, encased in a jeweled base.

And most famously, a very large, luminous pear-shaped diamond was magically perched upon the tip of the sceptre. This diamond was known as The Star of Merlin and legend had it that Merlin himself conjured it from the flames of the Battle of Celidon Coit; right after King Arthur had secured victory. And while that sounded heroic and romantic, there were other more _important_ things on Draco's mind.

"_How much weight am I carrying here? Two, maybe three stones?"_

He was so distracted he almost missed the actual coronation, or The Grand Finale, as he liked to call it. Dumbledore walked over to a large glass case that housed the royal crown, which was also known as St. Dewi's Crown. It was made of solid gold and set with 444 precious stones, including another large pear-shaped diamond to match the one in the sceptre. Draco eyed it with trepidation before Albus placed on his head. It was even heavier than it looked, if that was possible.

"_Gulping Gargoyles! Between the weight of my massive intelligence and this crown, it's too much! I'm getting a bloody migraine!"_

It was more than Draco could stand. He felt himself toppling and was visualizing the most graceful way to crash to the ground. Perhaps if he pretended like he was having a violent seizure, nobody would notice the enormous crown flying off his head and rolling across the altar.

As he started to list toward the starboard side he felt Potter discreetly nudging him upright. Unfortunately he nudged a little too hard and Draco found himself teetering to the other side. It was touch and go for a few seconds, but luckily Stefan seemed to be better at this sort of thing and with one shove, Draco soon found himself standing straight, crown perched somewhat precariously on his head.

"Behold!" Dumbledore called out. "Our Monarch and His Royal Highness Prince Draco of Avalon! Honoured Malfoy, Titular Head & Chosen Chief, Loyal Arthurian Warbands, Battlechieftain of the Council of British Druid Orders, Bard of the Free Gorsedd of Caer Abiri, Honoured Member of Whitestone, Priest of Merlin & The Horned God, Fellowship of Isis . . .

"_Hold on a minute! I'm a priest?" _

" . . . Noble Order of Tara, Member of the British Council of Traditional Witchcraft . . . "

During this droning recitation Draco could see Harry's head begin to drop and even Severus looked to be falling asleep.

"_We're losing 'em here,"_ he thought frantically. _"On with it! On with it!"_

Dumbledore observed the look of panic on Draco's face and in an obvious effort to relieve the situation he murmured, "And so forth and so on."

Draco sighed with relief.

Turning towards the crowd, he lifted his wand to the sky and recited the Sacred and Imperial Oath in a clear voice:

"I pledge to protect Women and Children at risk,

To defend the Brothers & Sisters of our twinned faiths,

To fight corruption in high places, no matter the cost,

To reform, that which was broken, the fellowship between the Ancient Houses and all others,

To do naught, save in the Noble virtues of Truth, of Honour and of Justice."

Lowering his wand, he silently looked upon the solemn faces of the people. He was filled with a great love for everyone and everything. He was at peace. He felt powerful and wise. He felt full of hope.

"_I feel taller . . ." _he thought, before remembering that he was standing on the top of the Coronation Stone.

Stepping down, Draco walked across the courtyard in full regalia, past the wizards and witches who'd witnessed the ceremony, past the dozens and dozens of flowers and giant quartz crystals arrayed around the periphery. Everywhere he walked, the people bowed low in reverence. He reached the edge of the crowd before turning his intense gaze upon his subjects.

It was his first few moments as the Prince of Avalon. All eyes were upon him and he could see the awe on the faces of his people. He knew that this was the time to set the tone for his rule. The time for profundities was _now_.

Giving the assembly a proud and haughty look, he spoke his first words as Monarch:

"LET'S PARTY!" he yelled before sprinting towards the castle. "DRINKS ARE ON HARRY POTTER!"

Draco was able to catch a glimpse of Uncle Severus right before he reached the magnificent doors to the main entrance of Camlann Castle. The Potions Master was pinching the bridge of his nose as Dumbledore patted his back in consolation.

He could read his uncle's lips. "Almost," he'd said to Dumbledore. "Almost."

The "F" word may have been in there somewhere, but Draco wasn't sure.

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A/N: I apologize about the delay in updating, but real life takes a toll. I will try to do better! I also had a case of writer's block. It's not that I couldn't think of what to write, but rather _how_ to write it. The story is pretty much completed in my head, but there are so many elements to it that sometimes it just paralyzes me. I have to decide which thread of the story to pick up and when to pick it up. It gets complicated.

Also someone was asking me about how I come up with the names of characters in this story. What can I say? I peruse Internet sites that list Latin names or Saint names or Welsh names and pick the most ridiculous or the most beautiful names I can find. However the name Eldorf is on no list . . . I just made that one up!

The next chapter will deal with the Coronation Ball. There will be _lots_ of intrigue and new developments. And maybe some romance, too! (wink wink)

Thanks to my beta, Elizabeth! I couldn't do this without her.


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